Give My Love to Rose

“Give my love to Rose, please won’t you mister? Take her all my money, tell her to buy some pretty clothes. Tell my boy that daddies so proud of him and don’t forget to give my love to Rose.” Johnny Cash ‘Give my love to rose’

1874

The hot sun beat down on his back as he walked across the dry arid ground of north Texas in mid-august. Sweat trickled down his skin beneath his blue shirt and denims. If he ever saw that good for nothing son of a bitch that had stolen his horse, he’d shoot him in his sleep. Not that he should be surprised that he’d had his horse stolen. He had stolen his fair share of horses in his life and figured it was just the Almighty returning the favor.

He looked up at that bright yellow orb in the sky and cursed its very existence. Without shouting a warning at that hot ball of fire he pulled his .44 colt revolver and fired three quick shots straight into it. Of course, he accomplished nothing, other than giving himself a ringing in his ears and scaring up several crows who had been resting in the thin branches of a nearby tree.

He slipped three bullets from the bandolier across his chest and slid them into his revolver with a swift, practiced ease before dropping the gun back into its holster and swiping his shirt sleeve across his sweaty face.

Marston Jacobs, simply Marston to those who dared to ask and seemingly nameless on all of his wanted dead or alive posters, scowled as he searched his empty pockets for a cigarette which he knew he wouldn’t find.

“Wring that man’s scrawny neck is what I’ll do.” he grumbled as he dragged his boots along the dust covered road. He didn’t care that he and Jeremiah had come from the same womb. He’d kill that bastard for taking his horse and leaving him out here to die. So what if Marston had owed him money, his brother should have known he’d pay him back. Stealing his horse had been completely unnecessary. At least Jeremiah had left him his saddlebags which were currently heavy as lead and laying over his shoulder.

Marston’s tongue was dry as a powder keg and felt ten times the size it should be. He grabbed his canteen and twisted off the lid but not even a single solitary droplet rolled out and into his parched mouth. He sighed with defeat and slowly twisted the cap back on.

He topped over a small hill and his golden eyes narrowed as he crouched instantly. He pulled off his hat and ran his hand through his thick brown hair as he looked down at the covered wagon parked beside the glistening watering hole. There were several saddled horses tied to the back of the wagon and Marston saw one he really liked. A tall, broad-chested gray with what looked to Marston like his name written right across its forehead.

He slid his gray stetson back on his head as he surveyed the group of people standing beside the water. It was a family group was his guess. A grown man and woman probably a few years older than him. Two young boys who looked to be under ten and a young girl probably around fourteen or so. They were all decked out in their Sunday best too it looked like to him.

He frowned. Was it Sunday? Or was it Tuesday? Hell, he had no clue. Living the life he lived he rarely had time to worry about the day, week or even the year. He wasn’t even sure how old he was. Somewhere between thirty and thirty-five was his best guess. He knew he wasn’t any older than thirty-five because the orphanage had told him he’d been born sometime between 1839 and 1844. Apparently they weren’t real big on keeping records.

He checked the family for any signs of weapons and saw none. Marston himself had his .44 revolver on his hip, an 1873 Winchester rifle on his back, a derringer pistol in his boot and a bowie knife and rope on his leg. There were even a few sticks of dynamite in his saddlebags. Always be ready for anything had been the first rule Duke had taught him when he’d joined his gang fifteen years ago. He’d only ridden with Duke for about three years, but the man’s lessons had stayed with him.

He stood straight and started down the hill with loose, relaxed strides and a smile on his face. He wasn’t worried about being recognized. Whoever had drawn his wanted posters had clearly been blind in one eye and unable to see out the other. Marston had eaten lunch in the company of dozens of bounty hunters since it had been issued and not a single one had ever recognized him.

He saw the alarm on the older mans face the moment his eyes fell on Marston. Marston couldn’t blame him for being scared of the sight of him. Big black boots,  dirt coated demins, stained and blood covered shirt ripped and torn on the sleeves from the fight he’d been in the day before. His face was covered in a thick beard and he was heavily armed. If he was the man out here with his helpless family, he would be scared of him too.

“Hello folks.” Marston said with a friendly smile. Marston saw the children quickly get behind their mother while the man stepped forward.

“Hello.” he said cautiously.

“It’s a hot one today isn’t it?” Marston asked as he squatted down beside the water and splashed some of the cool liquid over his face. The man nodded as he motioned for his family to get in the wagon. Marston took his time to fill his canteen and take a long drink before turning back to the man who was making his way toward the wagon as well.

“Nice to meet you, sir. We’ll be on our way now.” he said nervously as his pace quickened. Marston clicked his tongue several times and shook his head. He pulled his revolver and rested his sights on the fancy mans chest.

“Stop right there, mister.” he said, his voice still just as friendly and warm as it had been before. One thing no one would ever be able to call Marston was rude. Thief, murderer, gambler, conscience-free but never rude.

“Sir, we don’t have anything to offer to you.” the man said, his voice shaky. His wife was crying in the wagon seat while the children peeked around the wagons cream colored cloth cover, their eyes wide and shining with fear.

“I think you do. You see I find myself in need of a horse and I find you with a couple to spare.”

“No, w..we…we need those horses. They are all we have. We’re moving out here to set up a homestead.”

“I think I need ’em a little worse than you do.” Marston argued with a grin. “I’ll take whatever money you have too.”

“Just give him the horse,” the man’s wife hissed, her voice shaking.  

Marston tipped his hat to her before aiming the gun back at her husband. “Why thank you, ma’am.” She sent him an angry look that would have probably made him feel guilty if he bothered with emotions like that.

“I’ll give you the brown mare.” the man finally relented and Marston used the barrel of his revolver to scratch his bearded chin.

“Now I kinda liked that Gray a little better.”

“Fine!” the man exclaimed. “Take the Gray just please don’t hurt my family.” Marston’s eyes widened innocently.

“Hurt your family? Why I would never dream of that.” he lied. He stepped forward and the man nearly collapsed when Marston pressed his gun against his sweaty forehead and cocked it. Four voices screamed in unison from inside the wagon.

“Money. Now.” Marston said sternly and then he shrugged. “Please.”

Ten minutes later and Marston was sitting atop the gray with his pockets and saddlebags full of money and jewelry. This family was wealthy, or at least they had been. Now Marston was wealthy.

“Thank you folks kindly.” he said as he tipped his hat.

“Please don’t take all of our money…. We need some to feed our children.” the man begged as he dropped to his knees and folded his hands. Marston raised a brow and shook his head.

“Them kids’ll be just fine, I’m sure somebody’ll feed em some soup or something.” he replied. He set off away from them and looked back to see the young girl glaring at him from the back of the wagon.

“Ma’am,” he said with a tip of his hat.

“You’re evil,” she hissed and he laughed heartily.

“You’re cute., he replied and he rode off whistling a tune and feeling much better about his current situation.

Marston camped that night beside an outcropping of rocks and after eating some hardtack from his saddlebags the next morning he loaded up and headed northeast. He’d find Jeremiah and he’d pay brother dearest back for stealing his horse. Jeremiah was going to regret doing that.

The morning was still early. Light fog hung low in the air and the long grasses were weighed down by the heavy dew covering them and soaking the horses legs. Birds were singing and the sun was trying to burn through the layer of white clouds covering the blue sky. Marston was again whistling his favorite tune as he rode alongside the railroad tracks.

The peace of the morning was interrupted by the sound of a horse snorting up ahead. All of Marston’s senses were instantly on high alert as he pulled up on the grays reins and brought the horse to a stop. He scanned to both sides and behind and determined that no one was around. He urged his horse forward and as he topped a small hill he saw the horse who had snorted.

It was a brown mare with white feet and she was standing over the body of a man. She had her head down, grazing on the long grasses and her reins were dragging in the dirt. That was a nice horse and would fetch a good price in town. Marston rode closer to the man and saw the blood covering the front of his shirt.

He jumped from his horse and covered the rest of the distance on foot. He stood over the old man lying on the ground. His eyes were closed, his face pale and drawn and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Marston could hear the gurgling sound of blood gathering in the mans lungs as the same dark red substance flowed from the hole in his chest.

This man was on the dark side of dead, that was for sure. Nothing Marston could do was going to change that. Might as well take the horse and whatever supplies this man had before someone less deserving came along and took them for themselves.

He crouched down to search the dying mans pockets when the mans eyes flew open and pierced his face with a dark blue stare. Marston found himself unable to look away as the man’s mouth worked up and down in an effort to speak. Marston supposed he knew he was dying and wanted someone to hear his last words. Since Marston didn’t have anything better to do he assumed he could listen.

“What is it old man?” he asked as wispy strands of the mans thinning gray hair blew in the light breeze. The man coughed and blood trickled from his mouth and ran down his chin.

“I need… a favor.” the man gasped weakly. His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper and Marston had to incline his head closer to the old mans lips to hear him. A favor? Why would Marston do this man a favor? Then again what harm could come from telling the man he’d do what he asked. This man was going to be dead in minutes and would never know that Marston didn’t do as he wanted.

“What do you need fella?” he asked.

“I’m…on my home to.. Louisianna… I’ve been in prison in ’Frisco.. Paying for past crimes…” the man said as he took shallow rattling breaths. Marston nodded.

“I heard that’s a rough prison.” he replied simply. He wished the dying man would get to the favor and then get to dying so Marston could take his things and get on his way.

“Harper, Lousiana… I need you to go there.” Marston pulled off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Harper Lousianna was barely more than a pinpoint on any map and was about a weeks ride away. What could possibly be so important there?

“Why?” he asked.

“I need you to… take… my money to my wife and son… I was hoping to get… to know my… son” the man replied weakly. His eyes were growing more dull by the second and his breaths more random.

“Sure.” Marston lied. The man reached out with a weak hand and grabbed a leather bag he’d had resting against his side. He lifted it and shoved it in Marston’s chest.

“Here’s all my money. I wish I had more…to offer…. They’ve been waiting… ten years for me….. Tell my boy that his daddy is proud of him….” The mans eyes began to slip closed and Marston couldn’t believe his luck. This man was just handing over his money willingly.

“Sure, I’ll tell them.” Marston lied. He couldn’t wipe the greedy, predatory smile from his face. He was about to stand when the mans cold hand gripped his arm and stopped him dead. He looked back down at his face and found the mans blue eyes focused intensely on his own.

“I’m…trusting…. You…” he gasped. “Thank…the Lord… for sending you…here..to me.” Marston felt an odd ache in the pit of his stomach. He’d never once had anyone thank God for him before and he found it to be disturbing and unpleasant. It made his stomach hurt.

“Sure mister.” Marston said dismissively as he tried to pull away but the mans grip on his arm was firm and stronger than Marston would have guessed possible by a man so old and near to death.

“My name is Langston…. Please… Give my love to Rose. Tell her… Tell her to find someone else… Tell her to buy herself… something.. With the.. Money.” Marston jerked his hand away and stood straight.

“Sure, whatever you want.” he lied as he wiped his hand on his pants. There was something about this man he didn’t like. Something about the way his old eyes were boring into his own and seeming to see inside of him that made him uneasy. No wonder somebody had shot him and left him for dead. If he wasn’t already dying, Marston would be tempted to do the same.

“You don’t… understand.. I want you to give my love to Rose.” Langston repeated and Marston nodded.

“Sure mister, I’ll tell your damn woman that you love her.” Marston repeated.

“No… Give… love… her…” Those were the last words the dying man uttered before his eyes slipped closed and his chest ceased to rise. Marston let out a sigh of relief. He looked at the leather bag in his hands and pulled on the string to open it. He looked inside and his eyes widened. There had to be nearly six-hundred dollars in this bag. Where the devil did an old prisoner who’d spent ten years behind bars get this much money?

He looted the dead mans pockets and smiled with victory when he found the tobacco and rolling papers, along with a box of matches. He found a paper inside as well. A release paper from the prison with Langston Howell written on the top and his name signed at the bottom.

Marston didn’t think about why he was folding the paper and sticking it in his pocket and then he grabbed the brown mares reins and led her over to the gray. He used his rope to secure the mare to his grays saddle horn and was about to climb up in the grays saddle when he looked over his shoulder at the dead man lying on the road.

He was grumbling under his breath as he stomped back over and took the dead man by his arms. He drug him out of the burning rays of sun beginning to shine through the cloud cover. He didn’t have a shovel and there weren’t enough rocks laying around here to cover the man with. All he could do was leave him here in the shade by the road and hope that somebody found his body before it rotted or critters got a hold of it. Chances of that were good since this was a well traveled road.

Without looking at the man again, Marston walked back to the horses and climbed in the saddle. As he rode away the mans words kept clawing their way into his mind and replaying themselves.

Should Marston do as he had promised and take this money to Harper Louisianna and his wife and son that waited there? Surely the wife would be an old woman and the son a grown man. They didn’t need this money if they’d been living for so long without Langston. Marston needed the money. He owed people and needed to refill his ammunition supplies.

’ But the man thanked God for you’ A small voice inside his head reminded him and Marston snorted.

“There ain’t no such thing as God.” he argued and then he wondered if maybe the summer sun was frying his brain. It wasn’t right to hear voices and then argue with what they said… Maybe he was turning into an idiot.

’ He trusted you.’ The voice reminded him. Marston laughed. Wasn’t his fault the man had trusted him and handed him all that money and it wasn’t his fault the man had gotten himself shot before he made it home to his wife and son. Nope Marston didn’t owe the man a thing and now he was six hundred dollars richer and had not just one horse but two. Things sure were looking better than they had just yesterday morning.

Chapter Two

“Deal me in.” Marston said as he sat down on the rickety, hard chair and crossed his arms on the table. The dealer, an eldery gentleman employed by the saloon, nodded and when he dealt the next hand of five card draw he included Marston.

Marston won the first hand he was dealt and earned himself an angry look from one of the other three players at the table. When Marston won the second and third hands as well the man grew angry and threw down his cards.

“How do you keep winning?” he demanded. Marston shrugged and used his cards to scratch at his beard before tossing them down.

“I guess cuz you keep folding.” he replied. The man’s eyes flashed with anger as he threw back his chair and stood. Marston noticed that he wobbled a little on his legs and knew that liquor was to blame.

“I say it’s cuz you’re a cheat!” the man exclaimed. Marston felt his own temper rise.

“You don’t call a man a cheat unless you’re willing to die for it.” he warned as he stood much more slowly than the other man had and unbuttoned the holster on his gun belt. The first mans eyes flew to the gun and then back at Marston’s face and he swallowed hard.

“A man shouldn’t cheat at poker unless he’s willing to die.” he replied, with a shakiness in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Is that so?” Marston asked as a smile curved his mouth. The man didn’t reply, instead he lowered his hand toward his own revolver. The men surrounding them quickly scattered to the left and right, out of the path of flying bullets.

“You say when.” Marston said, the smile never leaving his face. He had been told once that it was the smile he kept on his face, even during life threatening situations that made everyone fear him so much. He had been told it was unnerving to have a man smiling at you as you threatened to end his life.

Marston could hear the dead silence of the crowd. His saw the twitching in the other mans hand as he rested it just above the handle of his revolver. He watched the mans throat bob up and down as he swallowed hard. Marston saw the muscles in the mans shoulder tense as he went for his gun and Marston didn’t give him a chance to clear leather before he put a hole straight through his chest.

He holstered his gun as the man fell and his blood pooled around him, soaking into the dirty, dry wooden boards. Marston shook his head, gathered his winnings from the poker table and then downed the last of the dead mans whiskey. He gave a wave to the dealer, tipped his hat to a whore and then walked out into the night.

There wasn’t any law in this town. Marston never played poker in towns that had lawmen on hand. He was walking toward his hitched horses when an angry voice called out behind him.

“He was drunk you know! You didn’t have to kill him!”

“I beg to differ with you.” Marston replied, without turning around.

“My brother didn’t know what he was doing! You could have just walked away!” the man exclaimed. Marston rolled his eyes as he unhitched the gray and climbed up in the saddle. Still he didn’t glance at the angry brother of the dead man.

“Your brother wanted to die or else he never would have called me a cheat.” he replied calmly. He heard the sound of the metallic gun rubbing against the leather of its holster and knew the man was drawing on him, and hoping to shoot him in the back. He sighed and pulled his own gun before turning in his saddle and firing a single shot that caused the man to meet the same fate as his brother.

Marston rode out of town before any more family could show up. It wasn’t that he liked killing people. As a matter of fact he didn’t enjoy it and avoided doing it whenever possible but sometimes a man had to do what he had to do. And in those times when he was forced to take another mans life he didn’t waste time feeling remorse or guilt. Those things would only serve to get him killed the next time someone attempted to pull a gun on him.

He rode several miles out of town and off the beaten path to set up camp and as he sat in front of the small campfire he’d made he thought about the man he’d found by the railroad tracks four days before. That mans words had haunted him since then and try as he may to ignore it, the guilt of his broken promise weighed heavily on him. Marston wasn’t a man of his word. He wasn’t honest or trustworthy and had never pretended to be, yet he had also never made a vow to a dying man before. The trust in that mans dying eyes kept working its way into Marston’s memory.

He hadn’t even sold the other mans horse or used any of his money yet. Maybe he should just return it to the mans wife and son the way he promised. It would be one of the only decent things that Marston had ever done. He didn’t make a habit out of doing them since they gave him indigestion.

He took a long draw off of the dead mans cigarette and stared into the dancing flames, willing them to tell him what he should do. He couldn’t believe he was having such thoughts and doubts. He was a man who prided himself on doing what he wanted, when he wanted and everyone else be damned.

“Lord, you know I don’t like you and I’m sure as hell that you don’t like me but right about now I’m kinda stuck and unable to come to a decision. Now that man thanked You for having me find him that morning and well I ain’t sure about that but if You did want me to find that man and if I am supposed to take this money back to his family why don’t You give me some sort of sign?” Marston felt more than a little foolish as he talked to the cloud covered sky.

He listened close for some sort of noise and his eyes stared off into the night watching for a sign. Most people believed he had savage blood in his veins since his sight and hearing had always been better than most others. He could tell when someone was going to move by the tension in their muscles. He could read posture and body language and tell when someone was lying. He supposed it was possible that someone in his family had been an Indian…. After all he had never known any of them and he was dark skinned.

He snorted and cursed himself for a fool when no sign magically appeared. He grabbed a stick and began to poke at the fire. Jabbing mercilessly as if desperately wishing that the burning sticks were his own guilt and he could let the fire do away with it. He stilled instantly when a large droplet of rain plopped onto the brim of his hat followed by more droplets sizzling in his fire.

Soon the droplets began coming down by the thousands and the drought hardened ground soaked them up like a sponge. Marston cursed and jumped to his feet. He went to his saddlebags and pulled out his duster coat, sliding into it and pulling it tight around himself. They hadn’t had rain in these parts for at least six weeks.

“Is this my sign, God?” he demanded up at the sky. “A little rain shower is the best you could come up with?” A flash of lightning filled the night and the accompanying thunder rumbled so loudly that Marston felt the vibration in his chest. He chose to pretend as if the lightning and thunder hadn’t followed his mocking of the Almighty and he made sure the horses were secured to the sparse tree beside him.

“Still waiting on that sign.” he grumbled as he hunkered down against the rocks and rain ran in rivers off the brim of his hat. Just then the wind kicked up and a strong gust grabbed his hat off his head and sent it flying through the air. Marston chased it, his long duster coat whipping around his lean legs. He snatched his hat out of the air and clutched it to his chest.

Now Marston was not a religious man by any means but one of the women at the orphanage had always been preaching about the Lords will and signs. Even Duke, as cold-hearted as he was, had believed that there were times the Lord sent you a sign to tell you what to do. Maybe Marston should listen just this once…..

888

The rain had stopped falling by the time the sun began to rise over the horizon the next morning. The clouds were still gray and heavy with the promise of more rain however as Marston cleaned up his camp. His fire had died soon after the rain had started and every inch of him was soaked to the bone.

He sniffed as he climbed up into the grays saddle and turned his nose toward the east. Though he knew he was a fool for believing a rain storm was a sign of the will of God, he was going to listen. He could be in Harper, Louisiana in three days time and just as soon as he dropped the money and horse off with the old lady, his guilt would be gone and he’d be able to get back to hunting down Jeremiah.

He wasn’t going to give them all the damn money though. They didn’t need six hundred dollars. He had taken half the money out of the leather bag and stuck it inside his saddlebag. The old lady and the boy never needed to know there’d been more than three hundred dollars in the old leather sack.

888

Marston rode into Harper three days later just as he had figured he would. Harper was a single muddy street with four buildings lining it. The livery/blacksmith shop, a diner/hotel, doctors office and a mercantile. Marston had no idea where to find this Rose or her son so he hitched his horses to the porch of the mercantile and walked over to the steps, his boots sinking into the mud. He had mud up to his ankles as he stepped into the dimly lit mercantile and two older women looked up from the catalogue they’d been looking at behind the counter.

“Can we help you, sir?” one of them asked. She was short and stick thin. She had a mouth that seemed to naturally pucker as if she’d been sucking a lemon and her glasses were at least half an inch thick, making her blue eyes seem to be roughly the size of a cows.

“I’m hoping you can.” he replied with his normal friendly smile. He knew it would be barely visible beneath his beard but the beard covered the identifiable circular scar on the side of his jaw.

“My name is Hester.” lemon lips said before motioning to the woman beside her. “And this is my sister Hattie.” Marston nodded. Hattie was short and so plump he wondered if maybe they had a bigger door in the back that she came in and out of. He held out his dirty hand to the ladies who seemed to wonder whether or not it was worth shaking before both smiling warmly and taking it in turn.

“Fine store you have here.” he lied as he looked around at the dusty interior. Clearly the H&H Mercantile didn’t see a whole lot of business. Things looked as if they’d been sitting in here since the wrinkly women had been born.

“Well aren’t you just a proper gentleman?” Hattie asked as she adjusted her skirt on her ample belly. Marston bit his tongue to avoid saying anything insulting and winked.

“It’s hard to be anything but a gentleman in the presence of such beautiful ladies.” he replied. The sister looked at each other and then began giggling like a couple of schoolgirls as they fiddled with their gray hair.

“Oh come now!” Hester scolded. “What is it we can do for you, young man?”

“I am actually looking for someone. A lady and her son.” both women sobered instantly.

“Why?” Hester asked, her large eyes narrowing suspiciously behind her spectacles.

“Hester!” Hattie exclaimed as her sisters harsh tone. Hester simply shrugged.

“We have to look out for each other out here, Hattie. I want to know what this mud covered, bearded stranger, with more weapons than the union army put together, wants with a woman and a boy.” Hattie began chewing on her fingernails, her chins wobbling as she did so. Hester however had a death stare fixed on Marston and it nearly made him laugh. This woman wasn’t any bigger than a damn field mouse but clearly she had spunk.

“I don’t mean them no harm, ma’am.” he promised. “I have some things that belong to them is all and I’d like to return them.”

“Where did you get these things?” Hester asked as she raised her thick gray brow and Hattie looked back and forth between them like a nervous child.

“I’m not gonna tell you that, least not tell I’ve told the woman.” he replied with a simple shrug and then he smiled and bent over the counter, leaning his forearms against the wooden top and bringing himself eye level with the two vertically challenged ladies. “Now can one of you ladies tell me where to find Rose or do I have to go door to door to all the surrounding homesteads?” The sisters shared a look and Hattie nodded. Hester sighed.

“Take the south rode out of town, veer right at the fork, you’ll go about a half mile through a thick forest and then you’ll top over a hill and you’ll see the home. Rose and Langston junior should be there this morning.” Marston smiled and stood back straight. Hester fixed him with a glare and pointed one crooked finger up at his face. “You better not mean those folks any harm or I’ll come gunning for you myself.”

“She could!” Hattie warned him with a wobbly nod. “She’s good with a gun.”

“I don’t doubt that, ma’ams.” Marston replied with an amused grin. “And I don’t mean nobody in this town any harm. Thank you kindly for your help.” He could hear the two women fall into hushed conversation as he walked out of the mercantile.

Several people were gathered in the hotel doorway watching him and he gave them a smile and a wave sending them running back inside. Apparently he’d gotten uglier in the last few years because people didn’t used to run from him quite that badly.

He jumped up into the grays saddle and started on the south road out of town. Time to find the old woman, give her the damn money (or half of it anyway) and the horse and then get back to looking for his brother. As he always did when he was riding slowly, he began whistling his favorite tune in the bright morning sunlight.

Chapter Three

Marston topped over the small hill and sure enough there was a small homestead standing just where the fat and thin sisters had said that it would be. Instantly he realized he’d been wrong about these people being wealthy. The house was practically in ruins. The roof looked like it leaked, the shutters were crooked and falling off. The log wall of the rickety cabin had cracks that he knew must let in the rain and wind.

A small barn stood a few feet from the house and it wasn’t in any better shape. As a matter of fact from up on this hill he could see a hole in the roof big enough to drop a horse through and it looked as if the horses had been chewing at the wooden walls.

A skinny horse was currently walking around inside the corral, though the corral fence was too run down to do much good at keeping the animal in if it really wanted out. The woodshed and smokehouse didn’t appear to be in any better shape than the barn or house.

Marston was beginning to wonder if maybe the ladies had been wrong about Rose still living here when the front door of the cabin opened and a woman appeared, sweeping dirt from the house and off the porch. Marston found his eyes drawn to this woman as he wondered who she was.

She was younger than him, probably in her twenties and she had bright red hair that hung in curls down her back despite the clip she had used to secure it away from her face. He couldn’t tell the details of her features from way up here but he could see that her skin looked like the finest of porcelain. She wasn’t built like the skinny whores at most saloons. No, this woman was more filled out, just the way he liked them.

Maybe after he gave the old lady the money he’d hang around a couple of days. Shooting his worthless brother in the ass could wait until after he’d had some fun with this big boned red head. He started down the hill, leading the mare and the woman looked up at him and then ran into the house, closing the door behind her.

Marston sighed and again wondered just how ugly he had gotten. He had always been told by the ladies that he was good looking but things seemed to have changed since everyone ran away from him nowadays. He rode his horse up next to the porch and then jumped down. He helped himself to a sip of water from the pump well beside the house and then wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve as he started up the steps.

“Stop right there.” a feminine voice warned from inside and Marston did stop. Not because she told him to but because the rifle barrel sticking out of a small t-shaped hole in the door told him to. He held his hands up.

“I ain’t looking for trouble.” he assured her. He wondered if this was the red head from outside now holding him at gunpoint. He already could tell he liked looking at her and damn if she had spunk like this too than he knew he’d have to bed her before he could leave town.

“Then ride on out of here and back to where you came from.” she said sternly. Marston pulled off his hat and scratched at his thick brown hair.

“I’d be more than happy to do that, ma’am, just as soon as I finish my business here.”

“What business?”

“I’m looking for someone. I was sent here by Langston Howell.” Silence reigned on the other side of the door for several long moments and then quite suddenly the gun was slid back away from the opening and the door was thrown open.

Marston found himself staring at a more beautiful woman than he had ever seen before. Dark red hair, snow white skin, light freckles across a small, slightly upturned nose and full cheeks. Red lashes framed wide blue eyes and her heart shaped lips were set in a firm line as she glared up at him with that gun still held in her hands. He had known her figure would be one he liked when he had seen her sweeping but up close it was even better.

She was average height for a woman, around five and a half feet and everything about her body was full and soft beneath her worn and faded tan gingham dress.

“Who are you looking for?” she asked.

“His wife, he said her name is Rose.”

“I’m Rose.” Marston stared at her in shock. This was the old mans wife? That man had been close to seventy years old if he’d been a day and this was a young woman! What would a woman like this see in a man as old as Langston? There was only one plausible explanation that Marston could come up with. This woman had been a whore, Langston had fallen for her and married her (as men sometimes did) and now he was dead and she was going to get all his money and run off to the next old man. Marston had heard about women like her. Predators that fed off of desperate men. He thought back to the one time he’d let himself trust a woman like that and had ended up horseless, moneyless and supply-less the next morning when he’d awoken to find her gone with everything he had.

“Well Rose, your husband is dead. Here’s his prison release paper, here’s his money and here’s his horse.” Marston said quickly. He shoved the paper into her hand, tossed the leather sack at her feet and then walked over to untie her horse from his.

“Dead…..” she whispered in shock and Marston nodded as he looped the brown mares reins around the porch banister. He knew he wasn’t being friendly right now. As a matter of fact he was being downright rude, the one thing he never was, but if there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was a woman with an agenda. And any young, beautiful woman who marries an old man has an agenda.

“How… How did he die?” He looked up at her to see her gripping the porch banister for support. Her face was even more pale and her knuckles were bright white as she held tightly to the rough wood.

“Shot in the chest looked like to me. He was on his way back here when I found him and asked me to bring you his things. I’ve done that now so I’ll be on my way.” Marston was about to jump on his horse when the unmistakable sound of tears reached his ears. He peeked a look at her from the corner of his eye and frowned.

If she was a whore she was doing a damn good job at acting like a devastated wife. As a matter of fact it looked like she was going to….

“Oh dear.” Marston grumbled and he moved quickly and caught the woman under the arms as she lost consciousness and collapsed against him. Her head had fallen back and he stared at the creamy skin of her exposed neck. She had a mole above her collarbone and he found himself wondering what she would taste like…. He was about to find out when an angry young voice called out from behind him.

“Hey! What are you doing to my mama!” Marston looked over his shoulder to see a young boy who looked to be around ten years old running out of the woods.

“Nothing.” Marston grumbled as he suddenly felt like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “She’s sick. Help me get her inside.” The boy looked at him with fearful blue eyes but finally nodded and ran up onto the porch, his red hair flashing in the sunlight. Marston carried the woman into the cabin, dragging her legs along the floor.

The boy led him to a small sofa and Marston laid Rose down on it before standing straight and looking around.

The inside was neat and tidy but run down as well. This sofa needed new upholstery, the scarred kitchen table needed to be sanded down and the cupboard doors were hanging crooked. Everything just looked old and as if it had lacked basic care for a long time… Ten years to be exact.

“Who are you?” the boy asked. “What’s your name?” Marston crouched down so he’d be on the short boys level and offered a smile.

“Not many people dare to ask me that.” he replied and the boy swallowed hard and sent a fearful glance at his mother.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine.” Marston promised. “And my name’s Marston.” Marston walked out of the house, he couldn’t leave until the woman woke up and he knew she was alright. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t leave, it’s just that when he thought about doing so his boots quit working and he couldn’t take a single step toward his horse.

He sat down on the porch step and rolled his eyes when he realized the boy had followed him. The boy sat down on the step next to him and looked at the revolver on his hip.

“Are you gonna hurt us?” he asked and Marston looked at the boy with a mixture of disbelief and shock. The boy seemed awful calm to be asking a question like that. The thought of hurting these people hadn’t occurred to him. Marston wasn’t the type to hurt women and children for no reason. But he sure would like to lay with that Rose but Marston wasn’t the type to force a woman. He’ll, he’d never had to. Women tended to like his attention just fine.

He could honestly say he had no intention of hurting either one of them.

“No.” he replied simply. The boy nodded and then looked at the gray.

“I like your horse.”

“Me too.”

“My daddy is on his way home. Mama said that once he gets here he’ll help us get this place fixed back up. It’s just been me and mama since I was born and she just can’t fix stuff the way a man could.” Marston nodded as he stared into the woods.

So the man eating she devil hadn’t replaced her husband once he was gone to jail? That didn’t exactly fit the image but then again you never could predict what a woman would do.

“I like your gun. It’s real shiny and nice. My pa left me a gun but it’s so rusted you can’t hardly use the thing. Not that mama would ever let me use it. She’s pretty strict about that kind of stuff. Sometimes though she has to get out pas rifle, just like she did today. What did you come here for anyway? Do you know my pa? And why is my mama sick now? Does it have something to do with you? Are you a bad man? You look kind of like a bad man.” Marston felt a throbbing pulse beginning behind his left temple.

“You talk a lot.” he mumbled and the boy gave him a big toothed grin.

“I don’t usually have no one but mama to talk to. We don’t get a lot of company out here. The women in town don’t much like to come speak to mama. I’m not sure why. My mama is a real nice woman. The nicest one I know as a matter of fact.” he replied. Marston picked at a rip in the knee of his denims and let out a long breath as the throbbing picked up tempo.

“How about we play a game?” he asked and the boy nodded.

“Sure, what kind of game? I like games but I don’t normally get to play them because I’m too busy working ’round here. What kind of game did you have in mind for us to play?”

“This game is called shut up and stare into the woods. Whoever does it the longest doesn’t get hog tied, gagged and thrown on the couch with his mother.” The boys blue eyes widened and he swallowed hard as he nodded and began to stare at the trees. Marston was chuckling as he too turned his attention back to the forest.

888

Marston had to admit that the boy impressed him. Even after an hour of staring into the woods the boy had yet to move or make so much as a peep. Marston wondered when the woman was going to wake up so he could leave.

He looked down at the boy when he heard his tiny stomach rumbling. The boy grabbed his stomach and made a face but said nothing and didn’t look away from the trees.

“Are you hungry?” Marston asked.

“HA! You lost!” the boy exclaimed with laughter but one look at the stern expression on Marston’s face had the boys laughter dying on his lips. “Yes, sir, I’m hungry.” he replied.

“Does your mama have taters anywhere? I’m afraid that’s about all I know how to make.”

“You’re gonna cook for me?” the boy asked wide-eyed and Marston stood and shrugged.

“Would you rather starve?”

“No sir.” the boy replied jumping to his feet as well. Marston rolled his eyes and followed him into the house. Rose was still lying on the couch and Marston wondered if she was okay. He’d known of women swooning and passing out but it didn’t normally last this long.

“The potatoes are in this box. I guess that’s what taters are, right?” the boy asked as he pointed at a wooden box in the corner of the kitchen. The kitchen, dining area and sitting room were all just one big room inside the cabin. There were three closed doors. One off the side of the kitchen and two off the sitting room. He assumed those were probably bedrooms.

“Yeah, kid, that’s what taters are.”

“My name’s Langston junior but mama always calls me Langly. I guess you can too if you want to.”

“How bout I just call you kid.” Marston replied as he opened the tater box and gathered an armful of them. He laid them on the counter, growling when a few of them rolled away and bounced across the kitchen floor. He could Langly struggling to stifle his laughter. Why the hell was Marston bothering with cooking for this damn kid? He guessed it was because he knew what it felt like to be a hungry ten year old with no one around to take care of him.

Marston looked around the kitchen and then raised a brow when he saw the sink with faucets.

“Y’all got running water in here?” he asked, knowing that mostly it was only the rich that had such things.

“Yes.” Langly replied as he gathered up the runaway potatoes. “Papa installed it to make things easier on mama. We even got a water closet where we can take showers. The dirty water goes out some pipes and flows back into the river which is where the clean water comes from to begin with. We still gotta use the outhouse though. I can’t wait ’til they figure out a way for us to do that in the house too. The other night I went out to use the outhouse and almost got ate up by a big old bear! It was scary.”

“Probably made using the outhouse easier.” Marston replied with a smile as he slid the bowie knife from the sheath on his leg and went about peeling the taters he’d gathered.

“That’s a big knife! What in the world do you use a big knife like that for?” Langly exclaimed wide-eyed. Marston shrugged.

“Some men got big bodies.” he replied and he fought back a laugh when he saw the boys face pale.

“I’ll go on out to the cellar and get us some peppers to eat with the potatoes.” Langly said quickly and then he dashed from the house. Marston let out a sigh of relief as he was sure he heard his ears thank him. He’d never known anyone that talked as much as that damned boy.

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

    “Ma’am?” A deep voice broke into Rose’s dreams and she resented it. She had been dreaming that she’d been sleeping upon a luxurious bed with silk sheets and pillows as soft as clouds. There hadn’t been a single thing she had needed to clean and nothing to cook and no one to look after. There’d been plenty to eat and Langley had everything he could possibly want. 

    Sometimes dreams were cruel—especially when they were so far from being the truth. 

    “Ma’am, do I need to go get a doc?” that voice spoke again. 

    The voice wasn’t completely unpleasant but it held no tenderness or true concern. Why was there an unfamiliar men speaking to her? Rose’s eyes flew open and she saw the owner of the voice crouched down in front of her. His face was mere inches from her own and Rose found herself both captivated and terrified. 

    His eyes stole her attention. They were a gold color unlike any she’d ever seen in her life. The skin around them was dark and tanned, his nose was long and sharp and his face was covered in a thick, heavy brown beard. 

    “Ma’am, are you gonna get up?” he growled with irritation lacing his deep, gruff voice. 

    Rose reached back into her memory, wondering who he was and where he’d come from. Suddenly the truth came crashing back down on her. 

    She remembered him riding down the hill, telling her his husband had sent him. Letting her know that her husband was dad and would never be coming back to her or to Langley. Speaking of her son…

    “Langley!” she cried out as she sat up suddenly and her head collided with the stranger’s. 

    “Son of a.. God! You stupid…!” The man’s voice was a low roar as he rose up and rubbed roughly at his head with his skillet sized hand. Rose could barely breathe. The man was massive. He had to be close to seven feet tall and his body was broad and thick—though judging by those muscles currently working in his bare forearm, none of his body was fat. 

    “Where is my son?” Rose demanded, glancing around her for anything she could use to defend herself. What weapon could one use against a man who was roughly the size of an ox?

    “I’m right over here,” Langley’s voice came from the kitchen table. “Marston cooked me some potatoes—I mean taters. They taste real good, mama, especially with those peppers we had in the cellar.” 

    Rose looked behind her and saw Langley sitting at the table, his feet swinging and his plate full of potatoes and peppers. She turned her attention back to the stranger. “You cooked my son something eat?” 

    “Someone had to,” he grumbled without meeting her gaze. “You were sleeping.” 

    “I wasn’t sleeping. I was unconscious,” Rose argued as she got to her feet. Surprisingly she did feel well rested—more rested than she had felt in years. Unfortunately the stranger was probably right and she probably had been sleeping. Sleep was something she hadn’t had much time for since Langston had been taken away. Between the work, the worry and the nightmares sleep was a stranger. 

    Thoughts of Langston had Rose’s legs disappearing beneath her once again and she sat down hard on the couch. 

    “I thought you were unconscious too,” the stranger admitted as he began scooping buttery potatoes onto a plate. “But then you started to snore.” 

    “It was funny, mama. You sounded like a big old bear.” 

    “What am I going to do…?” Rose whispered to no one in particular as she remained lost in her own thoughts. Langston was dead. How? She had just received a letter from him just a couple weeks before saying that he had been released and he would be coming home to her and Langley. What was she going to do without him? She couldn’t go on supporting her and her son alone.. she was barely hanging on as it was. 

    Rose knew it was cold-hearted to be thinking of money at a time like this but it seemed money was all she’d been able to think of for a long time. It was all that mattered when your cupboards were empty, your son’s clothes were falling apart and there were debtors breathing down your neck. 

    Rose and Langston had never been in love but she had had tremendous fondness and respect for the man who had saved her life and given her son a name by marrying her eleven years ago. This was not how their life had been supposed to go! Langston had had to go get himself tossed into prison and then get himself shot. Now she was alone with her son and she was fresh out of hope. 

    “What am I going to do?” she whispered again, desperate for an answer, pleading for guidance. 

    “You’re going to come on over and eat some damn taters is what you’re going to do,” the stranger grumbled as he plopped a plate full of them on the table. 

    Rose forced herself to swallow down her own fears and uncertainties. She had to be strong for her son. Slowly she stood and made her way on stiff legs to the table.

    “Thank you for cooking for us,” she said politely as she met the stranger’s golden eyes. She couldn’t’ get over how handsome he was even with that thick beard blocking most of his face from view. But there was something in his eyes—a coldness that unsettled her. She sensed a sadness within him and wondered what caused it. 

    Then Rose scolded herself. She had just lost her husband and should not be looking at another man let alone wondering how she could help him. Langston had been her savoir, her hope and now she would never see him again. That knowledge had new tears filling her eyes.  

    Marston saw that tear hovering on her lashes and he waited for it to roll down her full pink cheek. Then he shook his head. “Don’t worry about thanking me, ma’am. Just sit down and eat and we’ll call it even.” 

    “Won’t you sit and eat with us?” Rose asked, gesturing toward an empty chair. 

    “No, I don’t think so,” Marston quickly denied. “I gotta get going. I left the sack of money over there.” 

    Rose glanced toward the small table beside the door and saw the leather sack sitting there. “Money?” 

    “Yeah the money from…” Marston’s eyes went to Langley who was watching them closely. He turned back to Rose. “The money from Langston. His horse is out in the barn and settled in.” 

    Rose nodded as her stomach rolled and she picked at her potatoes without eating them. She was afraid if she took a single bite she would be sick. 

    “Why does Marston have pa’s money and horse?” Langley asked. “Where’s pa?” 

    “I’ll be going now,” Marston stated, reaching for the door. 

    “Marston?” Rose called out and Marston found himself unable to do anything but turn back around and look into those big blue eyes. 

    “Yes ma’am?” 

    “Thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing my husband’s belonging back to us. You could have very easily kept them for yourself.” Marston was about to respond when she wiped a tear from her eyes and rendered him speechless with her next comment. “Thank God for you, Marston.” 

    Marston didn’t know what to say. Why did these damn people keep thanking God for him like he was some kind of good man? It unnerved him and made his stomach burn and ache. 

    He couldn’t come up with any kind of response so he simply tipped his hat and quickly slipped out the door as Langley demanded once again to know where his pa was. Marston had no urge to be there when the boy learned that the man was dead. He didn’t envy the news that Rose would have to break to him. 

    Rose…A beautiful woman who confused him greatly. 

    Was she that talented at hiding her lack of morals behind wide blue eyes and polite words? Or was it possible that she really had loved that old man he’d found on the road? No, surely not. A woman that beautiful didn’t waste her time on an old man. There had to have been some other reason she had married the man and judging by the running water in that cabin and the sack of money Langston had had—money had been it. Clearly Langston being sent to prison had disrupted the woman’s plans. 

    Marston hoisted himself up onto the gray and pointed its nose toward town. It was late and the temptation of a hotel bed was too strong to ignore. He’d been spending too much time lately sleeping on bedrolls and the hard ground. 

---

    Rose fell into bed that night exhausted beyond belief. Langley had taken the news about Langston fairly well but, then again, the boy had never met the man who had given him his name. The law had come and carted Langston off to prison for past crimes mere days after Langley had been born, leaving Rose alone to raise the boy. 

    The money Langston had left them had lasted a while thanks to Rose’s frugality but it had eventually run out. Rose had taken odd jobs sewing and doing laundry and she had sold off everything of value in the cabin but still it hadn’t been enough. 

    She had been forced to take a loan against the cabin just to survive. A loan which she was now unable to repay and the banker was breathing down her neck and demanding payment while threatening to take her son’s home if he didn’t get it. 

    “Damn you, Langston. You made me promises.. promises you didn’t keep,” she whispered into the darkness. 

    It wasn’t his fault and she knew that. His intentions had been true and pure when he had asked her to marry him all those years ago and if he hadn’t come along when he had then she would very likely no longer be alive. 

    Rose thought about that three hundred dollars in the sack that Marston had given them. She had no idea where Langston had gotten that money and she was afraid to think too deeply about it. She was too desperate to worry about the right and wrong of it. With that money she could make a payment to the banker, pay off the credit at the store and the blacksmith, refill their food supplies, buy feed and tackle for the horses and buy some fabric to make a few new outfits for Langley. 

    She was hopeful she could do all that and still have enough to do a bit of repairs to the cabin and have a bit of money set back to fall on should she need it later. 

    Marston…

    For some reason that man and his golden eyes kept creeping into her mind. She wondered what kind of man he was. His eyes said he was a cold man—a sad man. Maybe even a dangerous one. But his actions said something different. He could have easily kept that money and horse for himself. And she had been unconscious most of the time he had spent at their cabin. He’d had plenty of chances to harm them and hadn’t—instead he’d cared for them and even cooked supper. 

    Rose couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her. She knew what most people thought of her. A twenty-seven year old woman married to such an old man—a man in prison. Everyone judged her and looked down upon her. If only they knew the truth….. But Rose would rather them believe their own assumptions than have the truth get out. The truth was too painful. 

    The terror of her life before Langston was something she didn’t want to relive, even in conversation. The terrifying events that had led to Langston buying her out of the back of that wagon and the horrific truth that had led to Langston offering to marry her and give her son his name were shameful things that she didn’t want anyone knowing.

    Rose clung to her pillow and sobbed, wishing things could be different but thanking God for the blessing He had given her when Marston had come riding in with that money. At least now Rose could feed her son a little longer.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Marston wondered what kind of damn town he'd wound up in! No saloon? What kind of town didn't have a saloon? Apparently a town just like Harper Louisiana. Damn, he needed some whiskey.  

All of these people thanking God for him and treating him like a good person had his had hurting and his stomach churning. Clearly the whole damn family had a few screws loose. A lot of people had accused Marston of being a lot of things in his life.  

Worthless.  

Bastard.  

Monster.  

But never Godsend. So why had Rose called him one?  

Rose. Rose. Rose. Why were his thoughts constantly going back to that woman? Why was he seeing that red hair and those blue eyes every time he closed his eyes?  

‘Because you liked her.’ That nagging voice in his head informed him.

"Well she was a beauty," Marston replied with a shrug.  

‘It was more than that.’ The voice insisted.

"You don't know a damn thing," Marston growled, wondering why he was even listening to that damnable voice. "I don't want or need anyone," he added.  

Rose had simply been different than what he'd been expecting to see as Langston's wife and so Marston had been surprised and couldn't seem to get that off his mind—that problem was nothing a little whiskey wouldn't fix.  

Marston slipped into his duster coat and headed out the door determined to find whiskey. The conversations Marston was having with that damn voice were getting ridiculous. It was starting to feel like maybe he was growing a conscience and that was a bad habit Marston was going to have to nip in the bud right here and now.  

He walked out of the hotel and onto the muddy road. Whiskey. Whiskey. Where could a man find some whiskey? Marston thought he remembered seeing some when he'd been at the H&H Mercantile. No doubt any whiskey they had would taste like rot gut and leave his head throbbing in the morning but beggars couldn't afford to be picky.  

The H&H Mercantile was currently closed and locked up for the night but a place being closed had never stopped Marston from taking what he'd wanted before. He wouldn't let it stop him now.  

He smiled as he slipped through an unlocked window and realized that voice in his head was remaining silent. Apparently his newly found conscience didn't see wrong with breaking and entering—at least as long as there was whiskey involved.  

---

Rose stood from the bed the next morning after a virtually sleepless night. She pulled on her nicest blue skirt and white long sleeved blouse—both beginning to fray and wear at the seams. She slid her brown leather belt around her waist and yanked her worn hole-filled ankle boots onto her feet.  

 Maybe she could get a new pair of shoes today.  

She took the time to place her long red hair into a braid and then twisted the braid upon itself and secured it to the back of her head. She grabbed her bonnet off the bedside table and walked out into the main room of the cabin.  

Langley was awake and already had a fire going in the cook stove and water heated for Rose's morning tea. "Thank you," she said as she kissed his red hair and headed toward the cupboard. Her face fell when she saw the tiny amount of oats left in the jar. It looked like she would be going without breakfast today.  

Rose grabbed up the oats and a jar that was a quarter full of peaches. She went about cooking and heard Langley pull on his boots and head out the door. She opened the shutters so she could watch him walk to the barn. Rose knew he would be feeding the animals what little bit of food they had left for them.  

Rose refused to worry. Today she would be able to refill the food supplies for everyone. She simply wished that her son could be more of a child. He worked as hard as a grown man because, truth was, Rose needed him to. She depended on him and all he did.  

Rose was just setting his bowl of oatmeal and peaches on the table when Langley stepped back into the house. He glanced at the single place set at the table and frowned. "Aren't you gonna eat, mama?"  

Rose laid her hand over her stomach and shook her head. "I'm feeling a little green today," she lied. Langley studied her hard a moment but then seemed to accept her response and sat down to eat. "When you're done I need you to go clean up and get ready so we can head into town and get some supplies."  

"With that money pa sent us?"  

Rose nodded as she busied herself wiping down the counter. She knew that money had not been honestly earned and everything in her rebelled against using it but what choice did she have? None. She had no choice.  

Rose left the house and went out to the barn. She took the brown mare from the stall and looked her over. It was a nice horse. Strong and healthy. Rose went about hitching her to their tiny cart.  

The rain clouds were gone and the sky was bright blue and perfectly clear. The sun was shining strong. It was going to be a hot one. Rose sighed as she walked back inside and then smiled when Langley came out of the water closet. His hair was damp but he had on his best clothes and he was smiling proudly.  

"How do I look? I look nice don't I, mama? Do I look like my pa?"  

Rose felt those horrible memories attempting to creep into her mind and she quickly pushed them back and smiled at her son. "You are the handsomest man in the world." She thought of Langston. "Your pa would have been very proud."  

"My pants are a little short," he admitted. "Do you think I could get some new pants mama?"  

Rose laughed lightly when she looked toward his feet and realized that his pants were a good two inches above his ankles. "I think we can manage that," she assured him. "And the good news is that if we hit a flood between here and town, your pants won't get wet."  

"It didn't rain 

that much,“ Langley insisted with a roll of his eyes and a giggle.

Rose grabbed her bonnet off the counter and motioned toward the door. "Well good sir, your chariot awaits."  

Rose's hand paused momentarily over the sack of money as she fought an inner battle over whether to use it. There was no doubt in her mind that it was stolen money. But pride and right and wrong be damned, they 

needed that money! With a determined sigh, Rose grabbed the sack and followed her son out of the house.

---

Marston rolled out of bed later than he had planned. An empty bottle of whiskey lay beside his bed and one hundred men with hammers were pounding away inside his skull. His mouth was bone dry and his tongue felt thick—it was as if he’d been chewing leather all night.

He sat up and felt the sunshine through his eyelids. Marston had meant to be out of town before daylight. He shouldn't have had so much whiskey but once he'd let that first drink pass his lips, memories of his past had come flooding in and so he'd drunk more to wash them away. Marston ran his hand over his beard covered face and clicked his tongue in an attempt to get some moisture back in his mouth.  

At least that voice in his head seemed to have been drowned and he'd been a full ten minutes without thinking about Rose.... Well, hell! There went that short reprieve. Already that woman was leaping into his mind and that of course made those tiny men with hammers pick up their pace.  

Marston stood slowly and cracked his eyelids so he could stumble his way to the washbasin. He splashed his face and cleaned off the back of his neck before tugging on his shirt. He put on his boots and hat, fastened his bandolier and strapped on his gun belt. His rifle was slung across his back and his knife was tied to his leg. Marston grabbed up his saddlebags and headed out of the hotel.  

Marston was making his way down the muddy street toward the livery when he caught a flash of red hair and turned to see Rose and Langley making their way into the mercantile.  

Without taking the time to think about the why of it, he let his feet lead him in their direction. He paused outside the doorway when he heard the conversation taking place inside.  

"Now Rose, we are aware that things are hard for you with trying to raise that boy by yourself. We are sorry about your husband's death and we know you're doing the very best you can working odd jobs but we simply cannot let you have any more goods on credit. We are running a business not a charity." Marston recognized Hester's voice and he could just imagine the way the sour faced woman's eyes would be widening behind her giant spectacles.  

"Actually, Hester," Rose spoke up. "I have the money to pay for everything on this list."  

"Really?" Hattie's voice broke into the conversation. "Did you rob a bank? One hundred pounds each of flour, sugar and meal. Canned peaches, pears and apples. A five gallon bucket of lard. Twenty yards of fabric, shoes...."  

"I think the woman knows what's on her own list, ladies," Marston said good-naturedly as he strode into the store.  

Rose turned to look at him and her eyes widened. The man seemed to fill up every inch of space. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the saddlebags he had thrown carelessly over one of them. Rose found herself struck once again by his handsomeness and by his eyes. He was dressed exactly the same as he had been the day before and yet somehow something was different.  

Here in the mercantile he seemed more predatory than he had inside her cabin. There was a glint in his eyes as he stared down Hester and Hattie that hadn't been in them yesterday—she also noticed that he seemed to be avoiding looking at her.  

Hester adjusted her glasses. "Well of course she does, sir, but we have to have money..."

"What makes you think the lady doesn't have money?" Marston asked. He tipped his hat to Rose and Langley without glancing their way as he made his way to the counter. He sat his saddlebags on the floor by his feet and leaned his bare forearms against the glass, lowering himself to the sister's level.  

"My his eyes are something...." Hattie whispered, laying a hand over one watermelon sized breast. Rose shifted her feet awkwardly and wondered exactly what Marston thought he was doing.  

"Why thank you, Miss Hattie," Marston replied with a smile. "Now back to the lady and her money. Am I correct in saying that you all are running a business here? A business folks come in and ask you for certain items and then you give them said items in exchange for money?"  

"I'm impressed," Hester intoned dryly. "The outlaw knows the general workings of a store."  

Marston smiled. "That's right. Now the woman gave you a list. You fill her order and she'll give you money. It should be a simple transaction."  

Hattie shook her head sadly. "Yes, but this is nearly fifty dollars' worth of goods and she owes us so much already...."  

"Did you fine ladies ever stop and ask the woman if perhaps she has the money to pay her debts?"  

Hattie and Hester gave Rose a disbelieving glance. "Do you Rose?" Hattie asked.  

"Yes I do," Rose replied, her voice quiet as she picked at a string hanging from her bonnet.  

Marston grinned and swatted the counter with his big hand. "Glad that's settled." He picked up his saddlebags and stood straight.  

"It's funny sir," Hester noted, tapping her chin.  

"What is, ma'am?"  

Her lips pursed even more tightly. "My sister came in this morning to find that our whiskey had been looted and here you are this morning smelling very much like a whiskey vat."  

Marston's grin just grew and her cow eyes bulged behind her glasses. "Mighty big coincidence, I'd say," he stated. He tipped his hat to the sisters and then turned quickly only to find himself face to face with Rose. Well, not exactly face to face since the top of her head barely came halfway up his chest.  

"Thank you, Marston," she said softly. "Again, I seem to be finding reasons to be grateful to you."  

Marston wasn't comfortable with her gratitude and he found his stomach rebelling once again. "Don't mention it, ma'am," he insisted. 

‘Please!’ he added silently. “Y’all have a good day now,” he added and with that he looked away from those big blue eyes and left the mercantile.

He stood outside, leaned against the post for several long moments to gather his thoughts. It just wasn't right for a woman to be so damn pretty, gentle or innocent in appearance. All that soft pale skin and red hair stirred something deep within him—and that dainty white bonnet she'd had over her head had merely served to frame her soft face and cause her blue eyes to stand out that much more.  

Out of here. Out of here. Out of here. Marston Jacobs needed to get the hell out of here. No more doing favors for dead men was one lesson he'd certainly learned. He didn't need the complication in his life. He strode off the porch and then heard tiny footsteps racing after him.  

"Marston wait!"  

Marston cursed under his breath and turned quickly, causing Langley to collide with his stomach. The boy bounced off and would have fallen if Marston hadn't reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "You alright there, kid?"  

Langley nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine thanks to you. You sure saved my butt from being sore. You move fast for someone so big. I was just coming out to say thanks for what you did for my mom back there. Most folks don't like her and that makes me mad. My mama works hard but folks don't care because she doesn't have money. But we have money now thanks to you and my pa."  

Marston nodded as he tried to take all that in and begged the bastards with hammers to give his head a rest. "Yeah, well, I gotta get going now, kid."  

Langley's innocent, freckled face suddenly filled with sadness and he dropped his gaze to his boots. "My pa died," he said quietly. "But I guess you already knew that.

Marston felt a tugging in his chest that he chalked up to stress. It couldn't be anything else after dealing with the over talkative boy. Then Marston uttered three little words. "Are you okay?" The question shocked him because he genuinely seemed to care about the answer.  

Marston had never once given a thought to someone else's feelings but he wanted the boy to be alright. Damn, that whiskey must be messing with his senses.  

‘Or maybe you’re finally growing a heart.’

Great. The voice was back.  

"I'm okay I guess," Langley replied. Marston shook his head to clear his thoughts and focus his attention on the boy. "I never knew my pa so I really can't miss him, I guess. I'm worried about my mama though. I heard her crying a lot last night and this morning she never even ate any breakfast. She tries to hide things from me but I can tell something's wrong with her."  

Marston grunted and shrugged one shoulder. "Bad things happen, kid. There's no point wasting time feeling sorry for yourself or worrying," he snapped more roughly than he should have.  

Langley nodded and crossed his arms over his thin chest as if to shield himself. Rose chose then to step out of the mercantile and when her eyes caught sight of them she headed their way.  

Marston realized the boy was right. Rose was in bad shape. Dark splotches surrounded her eyes and her face was ghastly pale. Her lips were nearly colorless and her shoulders were slumped. The woman looked as if the weight of the entire world was resting on her and she was plumb wore out from packing it around.  

Oh well. It wasn't his problem and it wasn't his business. He had enough of his own worries without adding hers to them.  

"They'll have the supplies ready shortly," she addressed them both. "Come along now, Langley. We have to go down to the docs and pay the credit there."  

Marston didn't say a word. He just turned and walked away. Rose watched him go and wondered what his story was. It wasn't a good one, if she had to guess but, then again, neither was hers.  

---

Marston came out of the livery with his gray a short time later and, much to his irritation, he found his eyes once again drawn toward the mercantile and to Rose and Langley. It seemed they were once again arguing with Hattie and Hester.  

"Stop being mean to my mama!" Langley exclaimed.  

Marston let out a sigh of defeat. He slid onto the gray's back and made his way to the boardwalk at the side of the mercantile where they were currently standing.  

"What seems to be the problem ladies?" he asked.  

Four sets of eyes turned to look up at him. Rose noticed that once again his face was predatory and cold—different than it had been the day before. When he addressed the sisters a smile curved his lips but it wasn't a true smile. It was cold and calculating and Rose preferred the rough and more honest way that he had been at her cabin.  

"They have all her supplies just sitting out here!" Langley informed him, pointing at the large pile of goods sitting on the boardwalk. "But they refuse to let the man who usually loads carts load mama's and she can't lift all that on her own."  

Marston's golden eyes narrowed slightly. "Why is that?" he asked the sisters.  

"Loading costs extra," Hester replied with a sneer.  

Rose flushed with shame and embarrassment. The fact of the matter was that she didn't have the extra money to pay for loading—and they'd never charged for loading before. She needed what little bit of Langston's money she had left to get through the upcoming winter.  

Hattie and Hester were simply doing this to be spiteful. They were wanting to milk every dime they could out of her because they knew that soon she'd be back to buying things on a credit she couldn't pay back.  

"How much extra?" Marston asked, crossing his arms over his saddle horn and leaning forward.  

"One dollar," Hattie informed him.  

Marston reached in his pocket and pulled out a few coins that Rose knew would add up to what they were asking for. Hester's eyes widened as she stared up at him and then held out her hand to expect the payment. Marston's grin turned colder as he closed his fist and shoved the money back in his pocket.  

"Can't see wasting a good dollar just to load some supplies in a cart," he admitted with a shake of his head.  

Rose felt her heart fall. She had thought for a moment... but no. She had no right to expect anything from Marston. The man had done quite enough and requesting his charity would be rude.  

"The supplies will stay here then," Hester snapped, her cheeks sucking further into her jaw.  

"Like hell they will," Marston grumbled as he jumped from his horses and landed like a panther on the ground below. "That would be a waste of good corn meal."  

With a grunt, Marston hoisted one fifty pound sack of flour onto his shoulder and tossed into the cart before reaching down for another. "What are you doing?" Rose asked cautiously.

"Loading your damn cart," he growled.  

Rose realized that charming façade he'd attempted in front of the sisters was now gone. Langley was grinning ear to ear as he loaded the smaller goods into the cart as well.  

"Her husband is still warm in his grave and she's already moved on to the next one," Hester whispered harshly to Hattie as the two woman made their way back to the door. Rose was thankful that Langley hadn't seemed to hear the comment but she could tell that Marston had by the way his eyes burned holes into the sister's retreating backs.  

Rose quickly pitched in to help Marston and soon the loading was done. Rose could only hope and pray that these supplies would last them a good long time. She wished there was enough money to hire someone to make repairs to the cabin and outbuildings but that would simply have to wait. Rose didn't want to spend every single dime that Langston had sent to them.  

"Thank you for the help," Rose offered once they were finished.  

Marston pulled off his hat and wiped his sweaty brow on his shirt sleeve. "I told you to quit thanking me," he growled. He plopped his hat back on and walked to the front of the cart. He held his hand out toward her and Rose frowned. Marston rolled his eyes skyward. "I was gonna help you on the damn cart unless you'd rather just do it yourself."  

Rose flushed and quickly made her way to him. She hadn't wanted to appear rude. It had been ten long years since a man had helped her into a cart and Rose hadn't been expecting Marston to offer.  

She laid her hand in his and their eyes locked. Blue and gold met and warred with an intensity that shocked them both. Rose had never felt this kind of shock or awareness when touched by any other man. After what had happened to her all those years ago, the thought of being touched by any man had always filled her with uncontrollable fear and unreasonable terror.  

The feel of Marston's big, calloused hand wrapped around hers caused her to feel anything but afraid.  

Rose was still trying to wrap her head around what was happening when Marston jerked her arm and hoisted her up onto the cart. He released her quickly as if she'd scalded him and wiped his hand on his pants as stomped over to his horse.  

"I'll come with you," he stated, never meeting her gaze. "You'll need help unloading everything."  

Rose smoothed out her skirt and took the reins in her hand as she nodded. Her brain couldn't seem to form words and so she said nothing. Langley clambered up into the cart beside her and the trio started down the long road to the cabin.

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Unloading the supplies didn’t take long and Marston knew it was time for him to be moving on. He made his way to the gray and was preparing to hoist himself into the saddle when Langley came barreling out of the barn.

"Mama! Patty is gone!"  

Rose came out of the house and Marston noticed instantly that she had removed her bonnet and her long red curls were in a long braid hanging down her back. Marston's hand still burned from her touch and that unnerved hm. Damn, he wanted to lay with her.  

But that couldn't happen. Not only because he still didn't complete trust a woman who would marry such an old man but also because that voice in his head kept saying crazy things about how he was starting to 

care about the woman and her annoying son.

"Who's Patty?" Marston asked.  

Rose sighed. "Our horse."

"That skinny nag that was in the corral yesterday?"  

"Yes. She must have escaped the corral."  

Marston snorted. "Not much of a corral to speak of."  

Rose's blue eyes flashed with temper reminding him of yesterday when she had held him at gunpoint. "We do the best we can!" she snapped.  

"Mama, we have to find, Patty!" Langley insisted. "She's lost and scared."  

Marston grumbled under his breath and tried to turn his back on them. Not his problem. Not his problem. Not his problem. These people were not his problem.  

"I'll find your damn horse," he muttered, before swinging himself into the saddle and heading off into the woods, following the horse tracks in the muddy ground.  

He didn't to travel too far before he found her. "There you are, you flea bitten old hag," he grumbled as he jumped to the ground. Her halter had gotten tangled on a branch and she was just too old and weak to do much about it.  

Marston crossed the wet ground and held up his hands when the mare tossed her head nervously. "It's alright, girl," he purred gently. "I won't hurt you."  

Only with animals did Marston ever let his softer side show. He'd had a soft spot for critters ever since he'd been a young boy. He had once found a kitten when he'd been a boy. The kitten had been starving and cold and so he'd brought it back to the orphanage with him. He had hidden it in his dresser and snuck it milk and water. Each and every night, he would get that kitten out of the drawer and it would curl up to him and purr.  

He had loved that smelly, skinny, ugly feline.  

Then the headmaster had discovered it and had laughed at the pathetic excuse for a cat. In an attempt to assert his dominance with the children and teach them not to hide things from him, the headmaster had bashed that tiny kittens head open against the brick wall beside Marston's bed.  

Marston had learned an important lesson that day about life and death. Weak meant dead. Marston would be damned before he ever let himself be seen as soft or weak. The minute you got soft, someone slammed your head against a wall and put your brains on display for the world to see.  

Marston grabbed the mare's halter and broke off the branch it was tangled on. He rubbed her thin head to help soothe her and led her over to his gray. He used his rope to secure the horses together before using his hands to check the mare's body for injuries. Other than being terribly malnourished, the horse seemed to be fine.  

He wondered what in the world had spooked her into leaving the safety of her corral.  

As if on cue, the gray and the mare both perked their heads up and began sidestepping as they tossed their heads. Marston's senses sharpened and he heard a twig snap just before a terrible growling filled the air. He turned just in time to see the coyote lunge at him.  

Marston threw his arm over his face to protect himself and the coyotes teeth sank deep into his flesh. Marston was faintly aware of the horses making a run for it as he brought his fist down upon the coyote's ribs. The best let out a whimper and released him.  

Marston pulled his gun just in time to shoot a second coyote that was preparing to lunge. He heard a noise behind him and turned but couldn't aim his revolver in time to stop the third coyote's attack. It sank its teeth into his leg and Marston let out a howl of pain before bringing his gun down hard against its head, shattering its skull.  

Before he could recover from that attack two more beasts were on him. Marston lost his footing on the slick ground and fell backward, striking his head against a rock. It felt as if an explosion had taken place inside his skull. He felt consciousness failing him as teeth sank into his shoulder.  

The blow to his head was making everything fuzy and the world was fading in and out. Marston nearly laughed when another coyote took a chunk out of his thigh. He pulled his knife and sliced out blindly, feeling the smallest bit of satisfaction when he heard the cry of pain—but he knew it wouldn't be enough.  

He was about to lose his hold on consciousness and then he'd be a goner. An entire lifetime spent not giving a damn about anyone and now he was going to die because he'd decided to help someone for the first time.  

The two remaining coyotes suddenly took off into the woods, obviously deciding that this meal was fighting back a bit too hard. Two coyotes lay dead next to him but Marston felt no thrill of victory.  

He was in terrible pain, bit to pieces, bleeding like crazy and about to pass out. He was a dead man. Marston closed his eyes and the world went dark.  

---

"It sure is taking Marston a long time to get back with Patty, mama," Langley noted as he walked up to the chicken coop.  

Rose nodded but her attention was on the hens she was feeding. She hoped that now that they'd be getting regular meals once again, the hens would get back to laying eggs. It had been a long time since they'd had fresh eggs for breakfast.  

"Do you think something happened, mama? Maybe he got lost. Or maybe Patty is hurt!" the ten year old exclaimed, his wild imagination no doubt painting lots of pictures in his mind.  

"I'm sure everything is fine, Langley," Rose assured him as she moved to the washtub she'd filled up with water and began scrubbing at the stains in Langley's shirt.  

She had changed into her worn blue gingham work dress that was fraying at the seams and she wiped her brow on her sleeve before blowing a loose strand of red hair from her face. She wished for just one day the work could all be done.  

"I'm sure you're right, mama. After all, he does seem like the kind of man who can take care of himself, doesn't he mama? Doesn't he seem like that kind of man to you?"  

Rose nodded. Marston definitely seemed like that kind of man to her.  

"You know it could be nice to have a man like that around here. To help with all the chores and stuff, wouldn't it mama? A man like that could help fix things back up."  

Rose watched her son gather up some wood from the box beside the cabin. "Marston isn't staying here, Langley. He has his own life he needs to be getting back to. Hopefully next summer we'll be able to hire someone to come and fix things up."  

"If it stays standing 'til next summer," Langley grumbled.  

"What did you say?" Rose snapped, her gaze narrowing.  

"Nothing mama!" Langley quickly raced into the house to deposit his armload.  

Rose heaved out a sigh as she gave up on getting the stains out of Langley's shirt and tossed it over into her basket. If Rose were being completely honest, she'd tell her son that yes, it would be nice to have a man like Marston around.  

Rose had been on her own for ten long years. She had lived in this house with Langston for nearly nine months before he'd been taken away and while they had never lived as true husband and wife, they had been friends. Rose missed that the most. She missed having a friend. She missed having another adult around to help carry the load—and with Marston's broad shoulders, he could certainly handle quite a bit of the load.  

Rose smiled at the foolishness of her thoughts. Marston was clearly a man with a dark past and many demons. More importantly, he didn't seem to have any interest in staying around. As a matter of fact, he seemed annoyed that he'd been pulled into doing what he had.  

Rose couldn't shake the memory of what his touch had felt like against her hand. The thought of sharing a bed with any man terrified her, Rose couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have him sit besid her on the sofa at night. She wondered what it would mean to her to have him beside her in the firelight and talking about the day. How safe and protected would she feel with his strong arm around her? Rose sighed wistfully, knowing her dreams were pointless but enjoying them anyway.  

Her daydreams were suddenly interrupted by something large trampling through the woods. Rose was preparing to run to the house to grab the rifle when Marston's gray came into the clearing. Patty was secured to the other horse but they were alone. There was no rider in sight.  

"Marston?" Rose called, rushing to the horses and grabbing the gray's reins. Panic clutched at her heart but she forced it back down. Panic would not help a single thing. Marston had to be fine. Rose needed a friend so he had to be fine.  

"Why are the horses back without Marston?" Langley asked as he stepped out onto the porch.  

Rose glanced back at him. "I'm sure it's nothing. You go back in the house and lock the door. Keep the rifle handy just in case."  

Langley nodded and did as she said and she couldn't help but feel proud of the young man she was raising. She waited until he was in the house and then led the skinny mare to the barn and secured her inside, giving her a handful of oats.  

Rose stepped back outside and looked at the gray. The horse was massive. It took her several tries but finally she managed to get herself up in the saddle. Never before had Rose ridden a horse this broad and tall but with Marston's size, she figured a horse this large was a necessity.  

As rose followed the muddy tracks and broken branches into the forest, she prayed that she would find Marston alive and well. Surely God would not send such a blessing to her and Langley only to rip him away from them so quickly.  

Her breath caught in her throat when she caught sight of dead coyotes ahead and then her heart stopped beating when she saw Marston lying motionless on the ground beside them.  

Rose leapt from the horse and ran to him, falling to her knees on the damp forest floor. "Marston?" she whispered, running her hand over his beard covered cheek.  

He gave a little moan and his eyelids fluttered but he didn't awaken. Rose let her gaze go to his body. There was a bloody bite on his shoulder and another on his lower leg but the worst was on his thigh where a chunk of flesh had been ripped away.  

His clothes were drenched in blood but none of these wounds should have made him unconscious. Rose moved her gaze back to his face. He seemed so peaceful as he lay there. The hard lines and anger were gone and he was a gentle sleeping giant. There was no more dangerous aura and no tension.  

Rose found herself wondering what he would look like without that beard. She wondered how all those hard line and angles he was made up of would sculpt his face.  

"What are you doing, you foolish woman?" she chided herself. "Stop daydreaming and help the man."  

Rose examined the area around his head and that's when she saw the blood on the rock. She gasped and turned his head slightly, her fears confirmed when she saw the blood matting his brown hair.  

She needed to get him back to her cabin but there was no way Rose could get him up on a horse without him helping. She grabbed his arm and attempted to tug him but couldn't budge his body which was probably at least two-hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle.  

"Marston," she called sternly. "I want to help you but you have to wake up!"  

She shook him roughly and suddenly his golden eyes flew open and his calloused hand closed around her throat. Confusion filled his gaze as Rose clawed desperately at his hand.  

"Marston.. it's me.. it's Rose.." she gasped weakly, finding that it was a struggle to draw any air into her lungs.  

He released as quickly as he'd grabbed her and as he flopped back down to the ground, Rose rubbed at the tender, bruising flesh on her throat and shook her head. "No you don't!" she grabbed his arm. "You have to stay with me. You have to climb up on that horse because I sure can't lift you."  

Without warning, Marston sat up, nearly bashing their foreheads together. "What happened?" he slurred.  

Rose wondered just how bad his head injury was. She had heard of people never being the same after suffering a bad enough one. "You must have been attacked by coyotes and you fell and hit your head."  

Rose frowned when Marston reached out and twirled one of her red curls between his fingers. "You're so pretty," he whispered, his gold eyes becoming tender as he gazed at her. A lopsided smile curved his lips and Rose felt a blush color her cheeks as her heart rate quickened.  

Then she saw him swoon and she barely managed to grab his arm and steady the giant of a man before he fell back to the ground.  

"Okay then. I'm pretty and you have a head injury. Now let's get you up and on that horse so we can get back home," Rose insisted.  

Marston once again seemed confused. "A head injury?"  

"Yes." Rose felt her patience waning. "You fell and hit your head."

"My head's fine," Marston insisted and before Rose could stop him, he reached around and patted himself on the back of the head. With a roar of pain, Marston held out his bloody hand and glared at her. "Dammit, that hurt! Why didn't you tell me I hurt my head?"  

"I did," Rose assured him, stifling her laughter as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips.  

Again, Marston's eyes turned tender and he leaned his face toward hers. "You're so pretty."  

Again Rose felt herself light up at his words and then she scolded herself for being foolish and got to her feet. "We've covered that already," she informed him. "And it would probably mean more if you weren't half out of blood, semiconscious and delirious from hitting your head."  

"I hit my head?" he asked and Rose laughed outright when he once again reached back and patted himself on the head. Again he let out a roar of pain and Rose fought hard to control herself. She honestly shouldn't be laughing.... What if the loss of memory were permanent? She smiled. He'd certainly be a lot of fun to have around.  

"Come on, Marston. I'll help you." Rose offered him her hand and he took it. She pulled as hard as she could but she knew that he did most of the work himself as he got to his feet and stood there swaying.  

He leaned some of his weight on her as Rose led him to the gray. It took several long painful moments to get him onto the horse's back but when he finally made it, Marston gave her that lopsided grin once again. "You want a ride, pretty lady?"  

Rose shook her head. Being close to him made her feel things and given his current state of mind, it would be a 

very bad idea to get on that horse. “I believe I’ll walk. You just focus on not falling off that poor beast.”

"I've never fallen off a horse!" he replied indignantly. Rose found herself stifling another laugh. Marston certainly was entertaining when he was nearly incapacitated.   

By the time they reached the cabin, Marston had once again lost consciousness and was slumped over the horse. Rose managed to get him awake just enough to hear him say she was pretty once more and then get him inside and tossed down on the sofa.

"What's wrong with him, mama?" Langley asked, staying near the corner.  

"He was attacked by coyotes in the woods," Rose replied gently. "I need you to get on his horse and ride into town to get the doc, okay?"  

"That big gray one?" Langley gasped.  

Rose nodded. "It's plenty gentle. You'll be just fine."  

Langley swallowed hard but left the house to do as he'd been told. Rose put a pot of water on the stove to heat. While that was going she walked into the water closet to get towels and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Rose gasped when she saw the darkening bruise that Marston's hand had left upon her pale throat. She touched it gingerly with her fingertip and gasped in pain.  

Rose gathered up the towels and laid them on the edge of the sofa before going to her bedroom. She quickly changed back into her blue skirt and white, high-necked blouse. She didn't need the doctor seeing that bruise and getting the wrong impression of Marston. Rose had to go back to the water closet to ensure the bruises were covered. She didn't have a mirror in her bedroom. There were certain parts of her reflection that she didn't want to have to see each and every day.  

Rose took her needle and thread from the cabinet and stepped back out into the kitchen. She used a towel to grip the heated pan of water and carried to the sofa.  

She stared in awe at Marston's form. He was so massive! All sprawled out on the sofa the way he was caused that piece of furniture to look no bigger than an arm chair. His legs were hanging a good two feet off the end and his hand was on the floor.  

Rose sighed and wondered just how she was going to get his weapons and shirt off so she could begin to tend to his wounds. She could cut his pants away to get to the ones on his thigh and ankle but that band of bullets around his chest would have to go.  

Rose laid her hands on his broad chest and searched for ways to take it off. "What the devil do you think you're doing?" Marston's sharp voice suddenly growled deeply.  

Rose quickly removed her hands. "Trying to get your clothes off," she replied as his golden eyes darkened. Lord, but it was hard to think with those intense eyes staring at her that way.  

"Don't ever touch me like that," he warned.  

Rose didn't' reply, simply busied herself smoothing out her skirt.  

Damn but that woman must not realize what she did to him! She had been all but begging him to throw her down and take her by touching him that way. Marston fought back the raging desire in his blood and focused instead on the raging pain.  

But why was he in pain?

Glancing down, Marston saw the blood covering his clothes and he felt the same sticky substance in his hair. He fought for some memory of how he'd come to be injured and then he remembered the coyotes and the rock. But how had he gotten back to Rose's cabin, on her sofa with her tiny hands rubbing all over his chest?

"What happened?" he demanded.  

"The horses came back without you so I went looking for you," Rose replied and Marston realized she avoided his gaze. "I found you unconscious but I got you to wake up just enough to get you back here."  

"And you were rubbing your hands all over me, why?" he questioned as he struggled to pull himself into a sitting position and let out a loud curse at the pain in his leg.  

Rose winced. "I wasn't 

rubbing all over you ,“ she insisted. “I was just trying to get that strappy bullet thing off of you so I could tend to your wounds.”

Marston's frown deepened. "Strappy bullet thing?"  

Rose pointed it and Marston laughed heartily. Rose was surprised by the sound. It was rich and deep and it rumbled out of him, causing him to look younger and more carefree.  

"It's called a bandolier," he informed her.  

She waved her hand. "Well take it off and your shirt too so I can clean that bite on your shoulder."  

Marston raised a brow but did as Rose commanded and she gasped at the sight of him. His body was unlike any she had ever seen. He was hard, solid and thick. Brown hair dusted his chest and a trail of that hair started low on his solid stomach and led down into the waistband of his trousers.  

With a blush, Rose forced her eyes back up and took in the alarming sight of scars. Marston was covered in scars. This clearly hadn't been the man's first brush with death.  

Puckered scars marred his left shoulder and his right side. Long jagged scars lanced across his chest. Those were the scars that stole her breath and caused the room to begin to sway. They were identical to the scars on her back—whip marks.  

Rose somehow forced herself to turn away from those scars and began wetting a towel. She had to tend to the oozing bite on his shoulder.  

Marston watched her closely. He had seen the way her eyes had widened when she'd caught sight of his scars. He was surprised that she hadn't asked about them the way most people did when they first saw them.  

Marston was confused by what he felt inside while sitting near her. Rose was something he had never experienced before. He was certain that she feared him, at least a little, and that proved she was smart. But despite that fear she seemed to truly care and have real concern for his welfare.  

Rose was a walking contradiction of sweet and innocent mixed with temper and toughness and she intrigued him. He found himself wanting to know more which shocked him. Marston had never once cared about another person enough to want to get to know them more. He took what he wanted whether it was money, supplies, food, quick physical satisfaction or shelter for a night and then he was gone.  

What made him act differently with this woman and her boy?  

"So why do you need all those bullets anyway?" Rose asked as she took the towel and dabbed at his wounded shoulder.  

Marston hissed with pain but remained still and let her do as she wished. "Some men are hard to kill."  

She shuddered. "I was being serious," she replied without meeting his gaze.  

Marston lowered his voice. "So was I."  

Silence fell over the cabin as Rose took out her needle and thread and began to sew up the deepest lacerations on his shoulder. Marston's jaw popped and his fists tightened painfully.  

Rose's face was pale and a line formed between her eyes as she scrunched her brow and focused all her attention on her work. When she blew a sweaty lock of hair from her brow and sat back, Marston uttered two words that he had never before uttered. "Thank you."

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Though Marston hadn't wanted to stay around Rose any longer it seemed fate wasn't on his side. Leaving simply wasn't an option. The doctor had said he needed to take it easy and Marston could tell by the pain his shredded thigh was in that riding horseback for hours wasn't something he could manage.  

Rose had put fifteen stitches in his thigh, ten in his ankle and another ten in his shoulder. By the time Langley had returned with the doctor, Marston had already cleaned up, changed clothes and had been sitting on the porch. The doctor had left him some laudanum for pain, told him to rest for at least a week to let the wounds begin to close and then he had left.  

"Where are you going?" Rose asked that evening as Marston stood from the porch chair and limped toward the steps.  

"I'm going into town. I'll get a room at the hotel."  

Rose shook her head as she finished clipping a faded purple dress on the line. "It's a long ride to town and the doctor said you need to rest."  

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "I've had worse than a ripped up leg."  

He'd rather have the pain in his body from riding than the torment he felt in his soul as he sat and watched her. Rose tempted him as nothing else ever had and the fact that something inside of him wouldn't' let him give into that temptation and simply take what he wanted from her irritated the hell out of him.  

"It's not your leg I'm worried about," she insisted. "It's your head. You shouldn't be alone after a head injury like that."  

"Why the hell are you worried about me?" Marston demanded and then he kicked himself for asking it. Did he really want to know the damned answer?

‘Yes you do. That’s why you’re still here,’ Great his favorite voice was back again.

‘I’m here because a chunk of my leg is missing,’ Marston countered silently.

‘Would you be honest for once in your life?’ the voice grumbled. ‘You’re still here because you don’t want to leave.’

Marston growled under his breath. “Are you okay?” Rose’s voice broke through the argument he was currently having with himself. He looked up from the dirty ground and let his eyes find her face.

She had one arched red brow raised and her teeth were nibbling her full bottom lip. She was truly beautiful. Like the sight of a hoof trampled waterhole when you'd been riding days in a drought.

Growling, Marston turned away from her. "I'm fine, dammit. I wish you people would stop asking me if I'm okay and worrying about me. And quit thanking me for stuff. And quit treating me like I'm something I'm not!" Marston stalked off to the barn without giving Rose time to respond.  

Rose watched him go and wondered if that outburst meant he was staying or leaving. On one hand, Rose knew she should fear Marston and, in a way, she did. But on the other hand she had seen glimpses of his kindness, generosity and caring. And her desperation for friendly companionship outweighed her fear tenfold.  

Rose was about to go into the barn to plead with the man not to leave until leg healed, when he came limping out with a burlap sack of nails and a hammer. Langley was hot on his heels. "Can I help you fix the corral? I'm real good at pounding nails. Can I use the hammer?"  

Rose hid her smile behind her hand as she watched them. It was clear that Marston was a man who didn't talk much and Langley was a boy who rarely ceased. Rose hoped Langley wouldn't irritate Marston too badly. The boy had been his whole life without a strong male influence and needed someone who would be patient with him.  

Marston nodded in response to Langley's questioned and handed him the hammer. Langley's eyes lit up and Rose continued to watch them as she finished hanging up her wet clothes.  

"Now you hold that piece up and I'll nail it in. Yep, I'm real good at nailing. I just never fixed nothing up because I'm no good at nailing and holding at the same time. That's hard to do, you know? Hey, what are you doing with those nails?"  

Rose looked up from a pair of trousers to see Marston holding the flat ends of four nails up to Langley's mouth. Her first instinct was to rush to her son's aid but she forced herself to remain still and simply observe.  

"Hold these between your lips," Marston ordered.  

"Why would I wanna do that?" Langley asked skeptically.  

"That way I don't have to reach in the bag every time we need one," Marston replied.  

"Well why don't you hold them in your mouth?"  

Marston's eyes narrowed. "Because I need you to hold them in yours."  

Langley rolled his eyes but did as he was told and put the flat ends of the nails between his lips. Marston caught Rose's gaze and the victorious smile on his face had her laughing—Langley was now rendered completely unable to speak.  

---

"Eat with us," Rose ordered as she sat a third plate potatoes, corn bread and beans on the table that night.  

"I'm not hungry," Marston lied just before his stomach rumbled.  

"You sure sound hungry to me," Langley countered with a grin. "Sit down and have some taters. Mama makes 'em better than you do. I promise."  

"Langley!" Rose scolded, but the smile threatening to curve her lips took any harshness from her voice.  

Rose sat down next to Langley and motioned for Marston to sit at the other side of the table. Marston stared down at that chair as if it were a lit stick of dynamite. He had never in his life been invited to sit down to a family meal. Hell, he'd never in all his life been a part of a family.  

‘You could be now if you wanted to.’

“I don’t want to,” he growled.

Rose let out a squeak at his sudden outburst of temper. "Okay then," she nodded. "You don't have to."  

She reached for his plate but Marston quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. "I wasn't talking to you."  

"Then who were you talking to?" Rose asked with confusion.  

Marston shook his had. "No one."  

"Are you going to eat with us then?"  

Marston stared down at his dark, calloused and scarred hand holding on to her tender, pale wrist. "Yeah, I'll eat."

Marston released his hold on her and sat down with a wince. Langley was grinning across from him. "He was talking to himself, mama. He does that when he doesn't think anyone is listening."  

"Shouldn't you be shoving potatoes in that overactive mouth?" Marston grumbling before shoving a bite in his own. Damn, but the kid had been right. Rose was one hell of a cook.  

"You can't eat yet!" Langley exclaimed.  

Marston paused mid-chew and fixed Langley with a stare that had the boy shifting in his seat. "Why not?"  

"Because we haven't said grace yet," Langley replied, glancing over at Rose for approval.  

Marston sat his fork down. "Well you go ahead and do what you want. I'll just sit here real quiet and let you speak but I don't take no part in saying grace."

Rose smiled at her son. "Go ahead, Langley."

Marston watched Rose as she folded her hands and bowed her head. She was so soft and gentle. She woke up a protective urge in him that had long been dead. He wanted to care for her and for Langley. He wanted to take away that load weighing down her dainty shoulders.  

Marston's stomach rolled. He was no one's protector and he shouldn't want to be!

His attention went to Langley when the boy's voice filled the quiet. "Dear Lord, thank You for the food we're about to eat. It smells real good. Thank You for making mama such a good cook. Thank You for keeping Marston safe today against the coyotes. Thanks for sending him to me and mama cuz we sure needed a friend. Please watch over my pa up there in heaven with You and make sure he knows that mama and I will be okay—especially now that we have Marston. Amen."  

Langley attacked his food with gusto but Marston found that he had suddenly lost his appetite.  

Friend? He wasn't anybody's friend. He was a murderer. A thief. A heartless bastard who took what he wanted and never regretted it. Marston looked out for himself and no one else.  

Damn that boy and his diarrhea of the mouth.  

Marston heard a quiet sniffle and he turned to see Rose watching him closely. She quickly averted her gaze but not before Marston saw the emotion and tears shining in her blue eyes.  

Emotions that caused his heart to feel like it was being ripped open in his chest. Marston stood from the table and limped toward the door.  

"Where are you going?" Langley asked.  

"I'm not hungry," Marston replied before heading out into the night.  

---

Rose stepped out into the darkness of night a couple of hours later. The kitchen was cleaned and Langley was tucked into bed, though the lantern light shining from beneath his door told her he was probably reading instead of sleeping.  

Rose sat her lantern down on the small table beside her rocking chair and settled down with her sewing. She had the porch to herself and couldn't help but wonder where Marston had gone. She hoped he hadn't taken off without saying anything.  

Rose had seen more on that man's face at dinner than she had expected to see. He'd been scared. Rose wasn't sure why eating dinner with them would scare Marston but the man had been terrified. He had tried hard to seem cold and distant but Rose was almost certain she'd also seen a bit of longing mixed in with that fear.  

Marston was a mystery that Rose simply couldn't figure out but she found herself drawn to him despite her common sense which told her she should know better.  

Rose threaded her need and began sewing a patch into the knee of the trousers in her lap. She rocked back and forth gently and became lost in her thoughts on life. She didn't realize that she was no longer alone until Marston's deep voice came from the second chair on the other side of the tiny table.  

"Don't you ever stop working?"  

Rose's head shot up and she gasped before shaking her head and covering her heart. How did such a big man move so silently? "I don't have that luxury," she replied before continuing to move that needle and thread with practiced ease. Marston nodded before leaning back in the chair. "Thank you for staying," Rose added. "Langley would have been very upset if you'd left without saying goodbye. He likes having you here—so do I if I'm being honest."  

Rose saw his golden eyes widen slightly before he turned his gaze away from her. He pulled a sharpening stone from his pocket and then slid his knife from his leg. The blade was at last ten inches long and it gleamed in the lantern light.  

"You shouldn't want me here," Marston warned as he slid that knife across the rock. The metallic sound caused a shiver to run down Rose's spine. Marston's face was suddenly cold as he looked into her yes. "I'm a bad man, Rose. A very bad man. I could kill you both and never feel a moment of guilt."  

Rose's hands shook and the trousers slipped from her grip. She let out a whimper of pain when her needle sank deep into her finger. Before she could blink, Marston was out of his chair and on his knees in front of her. She was breathless as he took her hand in his and examined it closely.  

His eyes narrowed at the sight of the lone droplet of blood welling from the hole she'd placed in her skin. "You should be more careful," he scolded.  

Rose couldn't respond because in the next moment he was pulling her hand to his mouth and pressing the most tender of kisses to her self-inflicted wound. His golden eyes once again held that gentleness she'd seen in the woods.  

Hadn't he just gotten done telling her he could kill her and her son?

"Bad men aren't supposed to kiss away hurts," she whispered, her voice trembling nearly as badly as the rest of her.  

Marston growled, dropped his hold on her and stood gingerly, keeping his weight off his torn leg. He scooped his knife and sharpening stone from the table and glared at her. "I 

am a bad man, Rose. I’ll stay a few days for my leg to heal but then I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. My advice for you is to keep your distance.“

With those final parting words, Marston left the porch and limped beneath the moonlight into the barn. Rose was left alone feeling more confused and conflicted than she had been when she'd first come outside to clear her head.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Rose woke from a nearly sleepless night. She'd tossed and turned and been on edge, waiting for Marston to either come into the house and murder those inside as he'd promised he could or slip into her room and kiss more than just her fingertip....He had warned her that he'd do the first and yet his eyes on that porch had told her he wanted to do the second.  

She wanted to drift back to sleep and was about to do just that when she was startled from the bed by the sound of banging outside of the cabin. Rose pulled on her thin robe and left her room. Her bare feet patted gently on the wood floor as she stepped into the cabin and realized that Langley's bedroom door was open and he was gone.  

Was her son alone with Marston? Why didn't that thought scare her after what the man had said last night?

That banging continued outside and so Rose stepped out and walked around the side of the yard. The dew covered grass soaked her feet and the bottom of her sleeping gown but she paid that no mind. Her attention was on the duo currently fixing her crooked shutters.  

Marston was holding the shutter in place while Langley, (with nails between his lips), hammered it into place and stared at Marston with what could only be called hero worship.  

Rose smiled. "It's a bit early to be doing hammering, don't you think?"  

Both of them whirled around with nearly identical sheepish expressions. Langley spit the nails into his hand and wiped his mouth with his hand. "We didn't wake you up did we, mama? Marston came in and got m up this morning. We did all the outside chores for you. We fed the animals, gathered eggs, cleaned the stalls and even milked the cow." Langley counted off the chores on his fingers. "Then Marston said we needed to fix the damn shutters cuz they're an eyesore."  

"Language!" Rose scolded quickly.  

Langley flushed. "Well that's what he said!" he insisted, pointing an accusatory finger up at Marston.  

Marston removed his gray hat and wiped his brow on his shirt sleeve. "I'm afraid he's right, ma'am."  

"You came into the cabin and woke Langley up?" Rose demanded. She didn't like thought of Langley's rest being interrupted for work.  

"He was already awake and reading a book," Marston assured her. "I could hear him moving around so I figured he might as well be helping with the chores. Someone needs to learn how to keep things up around here or the place is gonna fall down around you."  

Rose squared her shoulders defensively. "We do the best we can." Marston merely shrugged. Rose pointed at the hammer in Langley's hand. "You two could have warned me before you started pounding away," she stated before crossing her arms under her chest.  

"Did we scare...." Marston's voice trailed off. His gaze had been on a downward path toward her breasts but had instead stopped on her neck and the dark purple bruise that marred it. "What the hell happened to your neck?" he roared, his jaw popping with the rage that tightened it.  

Rose mentally kicked herself for forgetting about that bruise and coming out in something that didn't keep it covered. Langley's eyes widened when he too caught sight of her neck. "Oh this?" she asked, laying her hand over the mark and attempting to come up with some excuse for it.  

"Yeah that. And don't try to lie to me because I can tell when a person is lying," Marston warned. His stomach was tied in knots as anger raged in his blood. He would kill whoever had put those bruises on her soft, white skin. Rose looked more like an angel than ever this morning with her red curls wild around her head and the sunshine shimmering on her white sleeping gown and robe. Her full cheeks were flushed, outlining her freckles and her blue eyes were wide and innocent as she stared up at him.  

He was the opposite of her in every way. An angel to his devil. Marston would defend her against whoever had done her wrong.  

"Langley go to the river and get a bucket of water to clean the floors with," Rose ordered, her gaze moving to her son.  

"But mama, I wanna know where you got that bruise too," Langley insisted.  

"Langley..." she warned.  

"No mama," he refused stubbornly.  

"Boy, you better listen to your mama. She works her ass off for you so the least you could do is not give her the added stress of not doing as she tells you," Marston snapped.  

Langley glared up at him a moment but then heaved out a sigh and nodded as he dropped the hammer to the ground. "Yes sir."  

"What happened?" Marston asked again once they were alone.  

Rose kept one hand over her bruise, though it was too small to completely block it from Marston's view. "You didn't mean to, Marston... You were startled that's all. I shouldn't have been so close to you when I was trying to wake you..."

Rose stopped speaking and stared wide-eyed at Marston as he stumbled backward and his tanned face paled. A painful grimace washed over his features. "I..I did that?" he croaked.  

"You didn't mean to!" Rose assured him as she rushed forward and grabbed his big arm in her hands. "It was an accident and as soon as you realized it was me, you let go."  

Marston looked down at her fragile hands on him and yanked himself away. "I warned you about keeping your distance, didn't I?"  

"I'm not afraid of you, Marston," Rose vowed firmly. Though inside she knew that wasn't entirely the truth. She was afraid of him. Afraid of the way he made her feel. Afraid of the things he made her want. She was afraid that she might be falling in love with a man who was bound to take off and leave her behind.  

"You should be, Rose. You should be afraid of me," Marston replied, his gaze on the ground.  

"You didn't mean to hurt me," Rose insisted, stepping forward once again and laying her hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. This time Marston didn't jerk away.  

"I could have, Rose. I could have hurt you and I wouldn't have been the least bit sorry."  

Rose snorted with laughter which caused his golden eyes to widen. "You would too have felt bad. Look at you now! You're beating yourself up over something you did when you were delirious with a head injury!"  

Marston frowned. "I never beat myself up over the things that I do. I steal from people and they cry? Too bad I need the money too. I shoot a man and his wife sobs at my feet? Too bad, it was either him or me. Guilt is a waste of damn time."  

Rose stared up at him. That anger was back. The anger that seemed to have no cause. She tried desperately to read his other emotions and was a bit surprised that she could to a certain extent. She hadn't known him long but the man wasn't as good at hiding things as he thought he was. The man certainly seemed angry but Rose knew it was a cover for the fear, guilt and uncertainty she could also see.  

No doubt those three things were incredibly dangerous for a man who lived the way Marston did.  

Rose had had her suspicions about Marston and so she wasn't surprised to hear he'd stolen and killed before. Rose still had no fear that this man would hurt her or her son physically. Whatever Marston had been in the past, he wasn't that same man any longer. Something inside him had changed—shifted. There was a warmth in his golden eyes that hadn't been there just two days ago.  

Rose had learned long ago that the world was not black and white. Good men did bad things and bad men did good things. No one was simply good or bad. Life was much more complicated and there were no such things as saints and devils.  

Langston had been what many would have considered a bad man. But he had saved her life when he had bought her from the back of that wagon. He had told her later that what had compelled him to pay so much to get her out of that life hadn't been the scars she'd been covered in but the deadness in her blue eyes.

A deadness that years of rape and torture had caused but that nine months with Langston and ten years with her son had finally healed. If she could be saved, so could Marston.  

"You're not all bad," she insisted. "You brought that money to Langley and I. You carried me into the house when the news was too much for me to handle."  

"I dragged you," Marston admitted, looking for anyway to downplay his actions. He didn't like being reminded of the softness he had shown for these people.  

Rose rolled her eyes, (in a movement that he found impossibly endearing), before continuing. "You sat with my son so he wouldn't be afraid."  

"He followed me outside and I threatened to tie him up, gag him and toss him on the sofa with you if he didn't quit talking so much."  

"Yes, but you didn't."  

Marston's mouth clamped shut and he crossed his arms over his chest with a growl before staring into the woods to avoid her gaze. Rose smiled. "And then you cooked for us, defended me to Hester and Hattie and even went so far as to help me load and unload my supplies. You chased our worthless horse into the woods and nearly got yourself killed in the process but still managed to work on our corral and now our shutters... not to mention the tender way you kiss away pain..." Rose blushed and she felt Marston's gaze return to her. "You cannot tell me you're all bad," she added, her eyes locked on his chest.  

"Maybe I'm just earning your trust so I can have that much more fun when I torture you and run off with everything you have."  

Rose looked up at his face and saw that glint in his eyes and that same false smile he'd used on the sisters at the mercantile. She rolled her eyes and stared hard at him. "Then I'm afraid you'll be awfully disappointed. I've been tortured enough in my life that the thought doesn't frighten me and anything of value that might have once been here is long gone."  

"Is there more than one goddamn woman living in that head of yours?" Marston demanded, tossing his hands in the air.

"What kind of question is that?" Rose asked, as Langley returned and Marston bent to retrieve the fallen hammer and sack of nails.  

"A good one," Marston insisted. "One minute you're soft spoken and gentle and the next you're riled up and full of fire."

"You are not one to criticize anyone else for having mood swings," she scolded. "And I am quiet most of the time because life has taught me that getting angry rarely solves anything. Let's just say that you seem to have a knack for bringing that particular emotion out of me."  

Rose took the bucket of water from Langley, thanked him for getting it and then turned on her heel and strode back around the cabin.  

"Is mama okay?" Langley asked.  

Marston sighed and pulled off his hat. He scratched at his thick brown hair and shrugged. "Hell, kid, I don't know. You can't never tell when you're dealing with a woman."  

Langley let out a pained sigh and nodded. "Ain't that the truth?"  

Marston chuckled and the two went back to work.   

---

Marston was sitting beside the river that evening and his mind was racing. He didn't like being told he was a good person when he knew for a fact that he wasn't.  

But try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to do anything bad to these people to prove Rose wrong. He only wished he knew why.  

'You like having someone you can be softer with.'

Marston snorted. "Being soft gets you killed. Just ask my kitten."  

‘Would you shut up about the kitten? That was a long time ago.’

“I was young and it was traumatic,” Marston shot back.

‘Well, you’re not young anymore and it’s okay to care about someone and let them care about you.’

Marston grabbed up a rock and threw it roughly into the water, enjoying the way the peaceful current was thrown into chaos. He’d like to toss his newfound conscience into that damn river.

Marston had to get away from this place and these people. He was bound to hurt them—hell he already had! His stomach churned when he thought of those bruises on Rose's pale skin. Those weren't the first bruises he'd ever put on a woman but he'd be damned if he'd ever put another bruise on any woman. Hell, he felt as if someone had ripped his guts out knowing he'd done that to her—to anyone.  

Marston wasn't good. He didn't know how to be. Any goodness in him had been whipped out by that headmaster a long time ago and if any had been left, it had been ironed out by Duke. Marston was hard, cold and ruthless and that's exactly how he liked it.  

"Marston! Mama said it's time to come eat!" Langley called. "We already said grace so we wouldn't ruin your appetite this time."  

Marston sighed and pushed himself to his feet, cursing at the searing pain in his leg. 

‘Go on, you big bad outlaw. Go running to the boy.’ Great now the voice in his head was mocking him—Marston wondered if that was a sign his brain had gone completely soft.

Despite being angry with himself for following orders, Marston headed toward the house to eat supper. This would be his last night here. Marston would leave while everyone slept and be gone come morning.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Marston saddled his gray under the cover of darkness and led the horse out of the barn. His heart was heavy as he prepared to climb into the saddle. Then the unmistakable sound of feminine sobs reached his ears and stopped Marston in his tracks.

Rose was crying.  

Not his problem. Not his problem. Not his problem. It was no us. Marston wasn't going anywhere until he figured out what was wrong with her. He hitched the horse to the newly repaired corral fence and headed toward the cabin.  

The kitchen shutters were open and Marston peeked inside to find her leaning against the counter with her forehead pressed against the overhead cabinets. She wasn't crying loud. It was a quiet cry accompanied by body wracking spasms. Marston felt his heart constrict in his chest and there was no denying it, not matter how badly he wanted to. Marston cared about Rose.  

He entered the cabin without a sound and without taking the time to give thought to what he was doing, Marston strode to her, grabbed her arm and spun her around and pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly against him.  

Rose stiffened at first and Marston wondered if she was going to fight against him but then her entire body softened and she fell into him, clinging to his shirt and sobbing. Her entire body shook and trembled with the intensity of her tears but slowly as Marston stroked her back, the wave of sorrow seemed to subside.  

Marston felt her squirming and realized that the cold metal bullets in his bandolier were digging into her cheek. Marston quickly released his hold on her and retreated to the other side of the kitchen table, placing plenty of distance between them.  

Rose's face was red and streaked with tears as she stared at him. "Are you okay?" Marston questioned, once he had control of his voice once again.  Holding Rose in his arms had been the nearest to heaven that he had ever been and his body seemed to have been burned by her closeness.

"Yes," Rose whispered, her gaze dropping awkwardly. "I had a bad dream." She swiped at her cheeks, angry and embarrassed that she had been caught crying—especially by a man who had probably never been weak a day in his life.  

"Must have been a hell of a dream," Marston noted. He filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the counter and placed it in Rose's hand, careful to keep their fingers from touching.  

Rose took a long drink as Marston once again positioned himself on the opposite side of the table. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself back into Marston's strong arms. Being held against him had caused a peace to wash over her like Rose had never felt before. Just once in her life she wanted to be weak and allow someone else to be strong for her....

But she didn't have that luxury. Marston was all dressed up and ready to leave and Rose had a son to care for and a million worries taking up her plate.  

"I'm fine," she assured tightly.  

"Were they dreams about your past?"  

Rose shivered. "Yes. But they aren't something I'm going to talk about." 

At least not to a man who’s preparing to leave me behind.

Marston shrugged. "Fair enough."  

"Are you leaving?" Rose somehow found the strength to ask.  

Marston's grip on the chair in front of him tightened until Rose feared for the well-being of the wood. "Yes. It's for the best."  

"The best of who?" Rose inquired, setting her glass down on the counter.  

"For you and Langley of course," Marston replied. He wasn't what these people needed. All he would bring them was trouble.  

Rose wrapped her arms around herself, shielding herself from the pain. Marston found his gaze drawn to the way the lantern light illuminated the thin fabric of her sleeping gown and her soft body beneath—that was an image that would be haunting his dreams for many nights to come.  

"I think you're doing it for you," she countered. Rose picked her glass back up and Marston realized her hand was shaking.  

He felt a pain deep in his chest but shook his off. "Yeah, you're probably right. I warned you that I don't care about anybody but myself."  

Rose turned her side to him and took a long sip of her water as she stared out the window. Silence reigned. An uncomfortable silence that seemed to weigh ten tons.  

"Langley will be upset," Rose finally whispered.  

"The kid will be fine," Marston snapped, his stomach filling with a painful ache he didn't care to name.  

Rose still didn't glance his way. "If you're ever back around this way...."

Marston cut her off. "I don't get to Louisiana often."  

He stared at her profile and saw her lip tremble. With horror Marston realized she was once again about to cry.  

She was going to cry over him.  

The pain he'd been feeling before was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he saw that bottom lip quivering as Rose fought back her tears. Marston had no idea what to say and so he said nothing at all. He simply left the cabin, climbed on his horse and rode away like the hounds of hell were on his heels.  

---

Rose collapsed to her knees on the kitchen floor. She had let herself hope—made herself believe—but no. As Marston's hoof beats faded into the distance, Rose realized she was once again alone and he wasn't coming back.  

Rose found herself unable to quell the heart wrenching sobs that overtook her as she realized none of her silly daydreams were going to come true. Marston was not her friend.

Strange that losing him hurt so badly when Rose had never truly had him. Marston had never been hers and yet Rose had hoped so desperately that he would choose to stay. She had thought that with enough kindess and acceptance she could earn his trust and perhaps someday it could even grow to love....

But she'd been wrong.  

Rose picked herself up from the floor and forced her tears to end. She dried her face on her sleeves and poured the last of her water into the sink. She didn't have time to give Marston anymore of her tears. He obviously didn't care about her or about Langley and he had made his choice.  

While Rose would miss him and the thought of what could have been and the life she could have had with the man by her side, Rose would not fret over it any longer. She only had two more hours until sunrise and plenty of work to do come morning.  

---

Marston rode hard until he was several miles from the cabin and then he pulled up on the reins to give the gray a break. He jumped from the saddle, cursing the pain in his leg. He paced and limped heavily as he stared up at the night sky.  

Why did he care that Rose had been fighting back tears over him? Why would anyone waste tears on a man like him? Did that damn woman realize that he'd been doing her a favor by riding away?

"God help me," Marston pleaded as he looked up at the stars. "What am I supposed to do?"  

But the sky remained quiet and no answer shone back at him. Even that opinionated voice in his head appeared to have run out of things to say.  The only sound in the darkness was the hoot of an owl. "So no signs from God and no smart ass remarks from my conscience?" Marston grumbled, kicking the ground.  

The owl hooted again and Marston swore it sounded as if the creature were laughing. "Shut up, owl," he warned and in response the bird hooted more loudly. Marston let out a roar of rage, pulled his revolver and with a single shot he shut the critter up for good.  

‘Feel better?’

The voice was back. Marston was almost happy to hear it because it took his mind off the pain in his heart. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to find a saloon and get good and drunk. Maybe he could find somebody to shoot or something to steal.... Anything to feel like his old self. He needed anything to help him forget that dilapidated cabin, that over talkative boy and that soft, beautiful woman.  

Jeremiah ! The name flashed through his mind and Marston remembered the quest he’d been on to pay his brother back just before he’d been sidetracked by a dying Langston.

Marston hardened his heart and climbed back into the saddle. He would forget about Rose and Langley and any foolish notion he might have had in the last few days that he could be anything other than what he was. He would forget about having his ear talked off all day and quiet family dinners. He would forget about late night talks on the porch, soft pale skin and blue eyes.  

Marston grabbed up the reins and headed west, his back firmly facing the approaching sunrise.  

---

Marston topped over a small rise nearly two weeks later and shook his head at the ramshackle lean-to his brother was currently hiding out in. Jeremiah never had made a lick of sense to Marston. The man never stayed in once place longer than a month or two but he always made sure he built some kind of home to rest his head in at night.

Marston had always assumed it came from never having a real home as a child. Marston didn't have the same urge for a shelter and home as Jeremiah had developed—an image of a worn out cabin with crooked shutters and worn work dresses on a line entered Marston's mind and he grumbled as he shoved it away.  

Marston's eyes were immediately drawn to his stolen buckskin which was currently hitched up to a rail that didn't appear as if it would stand up to a warm breeze or a sparrow's weight. Jeremiah was an imbecile.  

A low whistle had Buck instantly whipping his head around, tossing his mane and whinnying. Marston hopped off the gray and clicked his tongue, chuckling when Buck gave a tug and pulled the rail from the ground dragging it with him as he came up the hill toward Marston.  

Stealing his horse back was truly easier than he had expected and he was a bit let down... as if in answer to his thoughts, Jeremiah came leaping out the leather flap that served as his door. His faded red long johns hung off his skinny frame as he raised up his rifle and fired a shot.  

A fiery pain seared across Marston's arm as he fought to keep the gray under control and cursed his brother to hell.  "You damn son of a bitch!" Marston bellowed. "You 

shot me!“

Jeremiah shouldered his rifle again and Marston quickly pulled his revolver and shot the gun clear out of his brother's hands. He didn't lower his revolver, however, and kept it aimed at Jeremiah's head.  

"You overreacting bastard!" Jeremiah exclaimed, shaking his bleeding hand. "I only grazed your arm, don't kill me!"  

"I'm about to overreact real bad when I blow your damned brains out!" Marston snapped back as he headed down the hill toward brother dearest. He was faintly aware of Buck trailing behind him still dragging that post.  

"Quit your damn threats, Marston," Jeremiah grumbled. "If you're gonna kill me then get it over with. You've been threatening my life for as long as I can remember."  

"The only reason I haven't killed you already is because we have the same mama," Marston assured him. "You left me to die in the middle of a prairie during a drought without a horse!"  

Jeremiah shrugged. "You owed me money."  

"You damned weasel. You were willing to kill your brother over a little bit of money?"  

"I wouldn't call fifty dollars a little bit of money!" Jeremiah exclaimed.  

Marston holstered his gun and crossed his arms over his chest. "So you stole Buck? That flea bitten beast isn't worth twenty."  

Jeremiah grinned. "Just so you know, I had a man offer me seventy-five dollars for that horse but I turned him down because I had a feeling my baby brother might be showing up."  

Marston grumbled under his breath as he reached into his saddlebags and pulled out fifty dollars—money he'd stolen from the family with the wagon what seemed like a lifetime ago.  

He laid the money in his brother's outstretched palm. "What about the interest?" Jeremiah asked with a chuckle.  

Marston had his knife pulled and the blade tight against Jeremiah's racing pulse before the man could blink. "What interest?"  

Jeremiah flashed him a grin that Marston knew for a fact the man practiced in a mirror quite often. It was a grin meant to appease his attacker and charm them. "No interest."  

Marston sheathed his knife and nodded. "That's what I thought," he grumbled. He grabbed the gray's reins and placed them in Jeremiah's bleeding hand. "Here's you a horse. I ain't got no need for two of them."  

"Why thanks, Marston!" Jeremiah teased with a wink. "That's plain charitable of you."  

Marston rolled his eyes and went about untangling Buck from the post while Jeremiah looked the gray over. "You got anything to eat, Jeremiah?"  

"Sure do," Jeremiah replied, patting his grumpy brother on the back. "Fried opossum and beans. Good damn stuff," he added, rubbing his beer swollen belly and licking his lips.  

Marston shook his head. "The anticipation overwhelms me."

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Jeremiah exclaimed three days later after Marston tipped over a cup of water and proceeded to throw the cup a hundred yards into the distance.  

Marston just grumbled and stalked back inside the lean-to. He went rifling through his saddlebags, hunting for the flask of whiskey he knew was stashed inside, when his hand closed around a bundle of money.  

Marston frowned. He hadn't realized he had so much left. He pulled the money out and counted it slowly.  

Three hundred dollars.  

Every single wall Marston had built around his heart in the last few weeks to block out the memory of Rose and Langley came crashing down in an instant.

This was 

their money. It was the money he had stolen from them and Marston had forgotten all about it. They needed this money. They needed it a whole hell of a lot more than he did.

Marston shook his head. No they didn't.  

‘Yes they do.’

"Shut the hell up," he grumbled. He didn't make a habit of being sorry for things and he sure as hell wasn't gonna start now. Marston forced those walls to rise one more as he shoved the money back into his saddlebags.  

He tossed the saddlebags over his shoulder and strode from the shack. "Where are you going?" Jeremiah asked with a frown.  

He was worried about his brother. Marston had always been prickly like a cactus but here lately the man seemed to be one giant prick. Jeremiah had no idea what had happened to the man but he was getting tired of dealing with his over the top grouchiness.  

"We've been sitting around this shack for days like a couple of women," Marston grumbled as he began saddling Buck. "It's time we loaded up and did something."  

"We could ride into the town a couple of hours away and play some cards," Jeremiah offered, tossing his saddle over the gray.  

Marston squinted into the sunset and nodded. "Sounds good to me."  

---

“They’ve got some fairly good whiskey in that saloon over there,” Jeremiah noted, tipping his head toward the two story building as they rode down the rutted street.

Marston nodded and led Buck toward the saloon. It was the nicest building in this town which was merely a stopover for outlaws, cattle drivers and any other traveler headed west.  

"Nice place," Marston said as he glanced up at the second story and saw the scantily clad woman leaning over the balcony.  

"Well aren't you a big piece of man," she called down to him. Her voice had a husky quality and she waved coyly. "Care to come on upstairs in a while and offer me some company?"

Marston merely shrugged and headed inside. "You gonna take her up on the offer?" Jeremiah questioned, elbowing him in the stomach.  

"Depends.." Marston shrugged. "I might just decide to get good and drunk. If that happens I'll have to say no. I wouldn't wanna get up there and embarrass myself."  

"Surely you wouldn't have that problem!" Jeremiah exclaimed as the two brothers settled down in some empty barstools.  

"I'm not as young as I used to be," Marston grinned, tapping the bar.  

"You're younger than me," Jeremiah noted, catching the beer the barkeep slid his way. "You can't be much more than thirty."  

Marston caught the next beer and stared down into it. "Well I feel damned old."  

"You look old too. Do you realize just how bad you're looking these days?" Jeremiah asked, downing a big swig.  

Marston glared at him. "Mama should have drowned you as an infant."  

Jeremiah laughed. "Hell for all we know she probably tried!"

Marston chuckled. "Let's go play some cards."  

The brothers made their way to a back poker table and tipped their heads to the four men already playing. "Mind if we play a few hands?" Jeremiah asked, swaying a bit on his feet as if he'd had twenty beers instead of half of one.  

Marston placed his own smooth grin on his face. "Yeah, we ain't never had much luck at the game but it sure does pass the time."  

The four men at that table shared predatory glances before nodded. "Well come on then, gentlemen. Sit down and play with us."  

---

“Was it good?” Jeremiah asked as the two men met back out on the boardwalk of the saloon. Their pockets were full of their poker winnings and Marston had just gotten done paying a visit to that real friendly lady from earlier in the night.

He smirked as he lit a rolled cigarette. "A gentleman never kisses and tells."  

"But we ain't gentlemen," Jeremiah winked.  

Marston took a long draw. "She was decent," he admitted.  

‘I think there’s a certain woman back in Louisiana that wouldn’t be a bit happy with you right now,’ that damn voice spoke up.

Marston grumbled under his breath. Marston didn't want to think about Rose or Langley or even the entire damn state of Louisiana. He didn't have a heart to give to them and even if he did Rose wouldn't want it. Not once she learned that he'd stolen their money. Money that they could have used to get through the winter. Money that would have taken some of that giant burden off Rose's shoulders.  

Marston growled as he tossed his cigarette down and snuffed it out beneath the toe of his boot.  

"Hey, Marston, check that out," Jeremiah nudged him with his elbow. Marston followed his gaze and saw the sharply dressed gentleman and his fancy lady friend exiting a gilded wagon across the street. Marston had never seen so much damn money and pomposity glittering in one place before.  

"What are folks like that doing in a place like this?" he inquired.  

"I don't know but that chest that man is attempting to lift looks awful heavy."  

Marston grinned. "Well what do you say we just head over there and help lighten the load a bit?"  

"Howdy folks!" Jeremiah greeted cheerfully as the brother's crossed the dark street.  

The woman instantly moved closer to her man while his grip tightened on the chest in his arms. "We don't want any trouble, sirs."  

"What makes you think we're trouble?" Marston asked with a chuckle as he hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. "That hurts our feelings a bit, doesn't it brother?"  

Jeremiah circled behind the couple. "Sure does."  

Marston raised a brown when Jeremiah leaned in close and sniffed at the woman's powder blond hair. "Step away from my wife," the man shakily warned.  

"That's a heavy looking trunk you've got there," Marston noted as he pulled his knife and tipped his head.  

The woman let out a gasp and squeezed her eyes shut tight while the man's gray eyes widened. "It 

is heavy but there’s nothing of real value inside.“

"Why don't you let us be the judges of that?" Jeremiah whispered as he leaned in close and let his lip brush against the woman's ear. She gasped and jerked away from him and the man tossed the trunk to the ground.  

"Help yourselves!" the man insisted before grabbing his wife's arm and pulling her body closer to his.  

Jeremiah circled the trunk and used his own knife to break the lock. As he rifled through the contents, Marston focused on the couple. "I don't have much in the way of monetary comforts," Marston mused. "And here you folks are all dressed up in finery with more than you need. I'd be much obliged if you could give me any jewelry you might have and empty your pockets."

"But..." the woman gasped as she lay her hand over the large emerald at her throat.  

"You can't be wearing those kinds of things around here, ma'am. You better be glad I came along when I did." Marston used the blade of his knife to lift the giant stone from her skin. "Now give me what you have." He shrugged one shoulder. "Please?"  

---

"Damn, we made out good!" Jeremiah exclaimed as the brother's climbed on their horses with heavier pockets and saddlebags.  

"Sure did," Marston agreed, feeling better than he had in weeks.  

A commotion broke out from the hotel and cries of alarm filled the air. "Get them!"  

"They stole from those fine folks!"  

"Thieves!"  

Jeremiah grinned. "Reckon they're talking about us?"  

Marston smiled as he grabbed Buck's reins. "I reckon I don't want to stick around and ask."  

A gunshot blasted and Jeremiah's wispy blond hair blew in the air as the bullet passed dangerously close to his head. "Yeah me either!" he agreed.  

The two brothers were laughing as they rode off into the dark of night. They continued at a quick, steady pace until they were sure that no one was following them. They'd had plenty of practice in learning how to remain elusive and evade capture. It came as natural to each brother as breathing.  

"That's the most fun I've had in a while," Marston admitted as the brother's stopped their mounts and looked out at the star filled sky.  

"See! We still got it, little brother," Jeremiah said with a friendly smack to Marston's arm.  

Marston let out a hiss of pain. "That's the arm you shot me in, you bastard."  

Jeremiah flashed a sheepish grin. "Oh yeah..."  

"Glad to see you boys are still at it."  

Jeremiah and Marston shared a smile when they heard that unmistakable voice and turned to see Duke riding up behind them. Duke was six feet tall and rangy lean. His face was a mess of scars and his black hair and beard were full of gray. Duke had been the man to take both brother's under his wing when they had left the orphanage and he had taught them all about surviving.  

"Well how the hell are you, Duke?" Marston asked, holding out his hand. "It's been a while."  

Duke shook the offered hand and nodded. "Yes, it has. But I got a proposition for you boys."  

"What's that?" Jeremiah asked.  

"I got some jobs lined up and a few empty spots in my gang. I could use some men that I know can handle themselves to ride along with me this time."  

Marston and Jeremiah glanced at each other and shrugged. "Sure," Jeremiah replied. "It's not like we have anywhere else we need to be."  

The three men rode off together and with every step Buck took Marston's memories of Rose, Langley and Louisiana and the man they seemed to believe he could become became more and more distant.

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

 "I don't have another payment for you yet," Rose whispered on the porch as she pulled her threadbare shawl tighter around herself and shivered in the cold.  

The slick dressed banker from Millerton simply shook his head. "I have to have a payment, Mr. Howell, or I am going to be forced to take what you owe in collateral."  

Rose glanced at the cabin and felt a touch of panic. "Mr. Winston, please, you can't take our home! Not in the middle of winter!"  

A fit of coughing overtook Rose and her lungs began to burn as her breath left her. Her throat was sore and her chest burning when the coughs finally began to subside and she gripped the porch banister tightly.  

"You should see a doctor over that cough," Mr. Winston noted, his thick black brow raising.  

"I have no money for a doctor," Rose countered. "Just as I have no money for your payment. Please Mr. Winston, give me until the spring and I'll think of some way to pay you back. You can't take our home from us in the winter.. we have nowhere to go!"  

"That's not my problem, Mrs. Howell," Mr. Winston replied with an uninterested shrug as he glanced at the two mares in the corral.  

Rose clutched at her shawl and turned her face away from the burning wind. "Please, Mr. Winston, have a heart," she pleaded. "I'll do anything to keep a roof over my son's head."  

Mr. Winston's gaze returned to her and the lust in his gray eyes caused Rose's heart to thunder with fear as she took a quick step back. "Anything?" he whispered.  

Rose nearly tripped over the rocking chair as she took another quick step back and grabbed the wall to steady herself. "I'll get you your money," she vowed.  

"One month," Mr. Winston replied, his gaze trailing down her body and causing Rose to feel exposed, vulnerable and sick. "You have one month to pay me and if you don't have the money when I return then I will take my payment however I see fit."  

"I'll have your money," Rose vowed, squaring her shoulders bravely even as she trembled inside.  

Winston reached out his hand and ran a long, slender finger down her cheek. Rose's knees shook with fear as the man removed his hand, tipped his hat and left the porch. "One month," he repeated as he mounted his waiting horse.  

Rose watched him ride away before collapsing in the rocking chair. Despite the coldness of the morning, Rose was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and her heart was beating far too quickly. Her every breath sent knives into her chest and her head was dizzy.

Rose was sick.  

There was simply no getting around that fact. And there was no getting around the fact that there was nothing she could do about it. Rose didn't have time to be sick. Rose would not build up another credit at the docs for herself—and what money she had left from Langston had to be saved to get them through until she could make more.  

Rose rarely fell sick and generally when she did, she got better in time without the aid of medicine. She had to believe this time would be just the same.  

Rose had too many other worries. She had no idea how to come up with another payment for the banker. He wasn't happy with only part of what she owed—he wanted the entire amount and Rose simply did not have it. Even if Rose cleaned twenty houses and patched one hundred pants, she wouldn't have the three-hundred dollars that Winston Meade was demanding.

Rose knew that the next time, Mr. Winston rode in, she would have to greet him with her rifle. After his threats, Rose new the next meeting wouldn't be a professional one. If Winston Meade thought that he was going to touch her, he had another thing coming.  

There had only been one man in her life whose touch hadn't scared her to her core but that man was long gone now and Rose would do well to forget about him.  

Rose coughed into her hand several times and whimpered at the pain in her chest. She rose to her feet, weaving slightly on her weak legs. The scent of fresh baked biscuits, gravy and eggs filled her nose. Rose sighed. At least there was plenty of food in the house and Langley had new warm clothes and boots on his feet.  

She owed that to Marston. If he hadn't brought that money when he had they would have surely frozen or starved to death by now. Thoughts of Marston filled Rose with a pain and longing so deep that she was forced to push them away.  

Langley was sitting at the table reading a story book and Rose offered him a smile before wrapping her shawl tighter around herself and beginning to prepare them both a plate of food. The inside of the cabin was drafty and chilled. The fire in the cook stove was dwindling and the wood box beside it was empty.  

"Langley, go and fetch some wood from the woodshed. Your food will be cooled off the way you like it by the time you're done." 

Or have a sheet of ice over it at judging by the temperature in this cabin . Rose hated this. It was rare for a winter to be so cold here in Louisiana but they were certainly getting a taste of the north this year.

"Yes mama," Langley quickly agreed. He stood up, grabbed his wool cap and scarf from the counter and left the house. Rose sat their food on the table and sat down to wait for her son. He returned several minutes later with only a few small chunks in his arms. "It's empty, mama," he said sadly as he tossed the wood into the cook stove and poked at it with the poker.  

Rose took a steadying breath just before another round of coughing took hold of her and she cried out with the pain of them. A tear slipped down her cheek.  

"Mama, you're sick," Langley whispered, his face pale. "Let me go get the doc."  

"No," Rose snapped sharply, wincing at the harsh tone. "I'll be just fine, Langley. Eat your breakfast and I'll go cut more wood when we're done."  

"Okay, mama," he whispered, his gaze going down to the scarred table top.  

Rose sighed. "Go ahead and say grace, Langley."  

"Dear God, thank you for the breakfast me and mama is about to eat. Thank you for making the hens lay again and thank you for making mama such a good cook. Please, help my mama get better and please look out for Marston wherever he is. Keep him safe until he comes back to visit. Amen."  

Langley dug into his food but Rose continued to stare down at her plate as she fought her rising emotions. Rose had lied to Langley the morning after Marston had left so long ago. She had told the boy that he had left in the night because he had an emergency he had to take care of and that he would be coming back to visit them as soon as he could.  

Rose had found herself unable to break her son's heart with the truth. Langley worshiped the ground that Marston walked on and learning that the man had abandoned them would have destroyed him.  

Rose closed her eyes and sent up her own prayer that somehow the Lord would provide her with a way to pay back the debt she owed the banker. Rose began to eat her breakfast but the pain in her throat made it nearly impossible to swallow.  

Once she had forced down as much as she could, Rose stood from the table and headed outside to cut wood. There were plenty of large chunks of log, they simply needed to be cut down to size. Her weak, aching body protested the labor as she swung that heavy axe again and again.  

Sweat poured from her skin and her head swam but still Rose continued because she simply had no choice.  

Rose stood straight and stretched out her aching back before gazing up at the sky. "Dear Lord, please give me the strength to get through these challenges and help me to remember that this too shall pass."  

---

“Cry for me, you little bitch. I love it when they cry.”

Rose sobbed and her eleven year old body shook with the intensity of her fear and pain. The man smelled of sweat, horse and tobacco and it was clear he hadn't bathed in a long while. He smiled at her, revealing rotting teeth before pressing his mouth to hers and bruising her tender flesh. 


The man stood and readjusted his trousers before smacking her roughly across the face and causing Rose to cry out. 


"That'll be thirty dollars," Rose heard her adoptive father say as the man stepped out of her bedroom. 


"That seems a little stiff for all I got," the man complained. "Hell, all she did was lay there and cry." 


"Yeah, but it was tight and it was innocent so that's worth at least thirty. For anyone else it would be more. You're getting the friend discount." 


She heard both men laugh and she whimpered as she yanked her nightdress down over her bruised thighs. There was an unfamiliar dampness between her legs and Rose pulled her knees into her chest and sobbed. She so desperately wished that she could be back in that orphanage. 


"God, all that soft red hair and pale skin.. you've got yourself a real moneymaker there," the stranger mused. 


"I know," her adoptive father agreed. "I know she's young and inexperienced but what man wouldn't enjoy riding something as tight and fresh as that?" 


"I'll probably be back one night soon for another turn." 


"We'll be right here." 


Rose heard the stranger leave and her adoptive father's footsteps entered her dark bedroom. "Stop your crying, you ungrateful brat! I saved you from that damn orphanage and I'm putting a roof over your head and food in your belly. All I ask in return is that you spread your legs for the gentlemen without sniveling like a babe." 


Rose felt her stomach roll and then, much to her horror, she lost her small supper over the edge of the bed. Her adoptive father curled his nose at the acidic scent of vomit. "Damn you!" he exclaimed. 


Rose was hauled from the bed by her hair. She stared at the white sheets and saw the blood staining them. Her blood. 


"I'm sorry papa!" she whimpered as he dragged her from her bedroom.

"Damn right you are! Now I have to clean up this mess!"

The cold Virginia winter assaulted her frail body as Rose was tossed out into the snow wearing nothing but her nightdress. 


Her body hurt too badly to get up and her eyes widened with horror when her adoptive father came striding toward her with a horsewhip. 


"You learn to be good!" he bellowed. "Even if I have to kill you to get it done!" He raised that whip high in the air.....

Rose sat bolt upright in bed and prayed that her cry of shock wouldn't wake Langley. She pulled back her sweat soaked sheets and moved wet strands of hair from her face. Her weak legs would barely support her as Rose slipped into her robe and shuffled to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and sobbed into the night.  

Dreams and memories of her childhood always did this to her. They reduced her to a trembling, sobbing mess and Rose hated it! She pressed her forehead hard against the upper cabinets in hopes that she could push out the images, the memories, the smells, the pain....

What she wouldn't give to have that cabin door open, to hear those muddy boots crossing the floor, to have that big hand grip her shoulder and to find herself pulled into a solid, strong chest. But that wasn't going to happen. Marston was gone and he wasn't going to come in and hold her before offering her a glass of water and company.  

Rose tried to take a deep breath but her lungs cried out in protest. She cleaned her face on her robe and walked to the water pitcher. Slowly, she sipped at a glass and stared at the dying fire in the fireplace.  

Her name was Rose—just Rose. She had never had a last name of her own. She had lived through worse nightmares than most people could even dream of and she had come out stronger because of them. This would be no different. She would overcome this sickness, find a way to pay back Winston, keep a roof over her son's head and forget about Marston. Once she did all of that, she would be stronger for having done it on her own.  

---

“Well, why don’t you look at what I just became the proud owner of!” Jeremiah boasted as he walked out of a west Kansas saloon and stomped across the frozen ground to where Duke and Marston were standing against the wall smoking cigarettes.

"What's that?" Duke asked.  

Jeremiah held up a piece of paper. Marston snatched it out of his hand and looked it over. It was the deed to a piece of property and a house up in the Dakota territories. "Some man put it up in the poker game and I won it," Jeremiah informed them. "He said the house is a real nice two story one too. It's a regular old homestead."  

"What use have you got for a homestead?" Duke asked with a chuckle.  

Marston stared down at the paper with his jaw tight and his heart racing. He knew a good use for this homestead. He imagined cows in the barn and horses in the corral. There'd be plenty of hens in the chicken coop pecking at the ground. There'd be pretty flowers all around the big house and the air would be filled with the ramblings of a ten year old boy as he followed after Marston's heels doing the morning chores. There'd be a soft redhead with snow white skin and a mole above her collarbone hanging and laughing with happiness. She'd be looking up at Marston with all her emotions shining clear in her blue eyes.....

"You okay Marston?" Jeremiah asked, breaking through Marston's daydream. He shook his head and realized that both men were watching him closely.  

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grumbled, shoving the paper back into his brother's hands.  

‘No you’re not. You need to go back to them.’

Marston growled and threw his cigarette on the frozen mud. He squished it beneath his boot and wondered what the hell was wrong with him. It had been three months since he’d left Rose and Langley and in that time he’d done a fairly good job at forgetting them. But every now and then their memory would sneak up on him and when it did the pain and longing in Marston’s chest were nearly enough to kill him.

"You don't act okay, Marston," Duke countered. "And you haven't for a long time. You seem downright melancholy."  

Marston shook his head and pulled his hat lower. "Are we going to stand around talking about feelings all day or are we gonna ride?"  

Jeremiah frowned. "Do you want the homestead, Marston? I'd be willing to work out some kind of trade with you."  

"What the hell would I do with a homestead?!" Marston demanded. "I sure as hell ain't got a use for one!" With that he strode away toward Buck.  

"What the hell is the matter with him?" Jeremiah grumbled as he folded up his new deed and stuck it deep in his pocket.  

Duke shivered. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was wanting to settle down. He hasn't talked to you about being in love, has he?"  

Jeremiah let out a bark of laughter. "Marston in love? Come on Duke! You taught us better than that. Hell, Marston don't care about anybody. You know as well as I do that if a posse of demons got after us, he'd trip us in a heartbeat to save his own skin."

Duke nodded and tossed his cigarette down. "And we'd do the same to him."  

"That right," Jeremiah nodded, glad to have things the way they'd always been.  

"It still seems like something has gotten under his skin. He's lost his edge, Jeremiah. He seems...

softer .. somehow.“

The men shared a look of horror. Falling in love was against the rules of survival in the life they lived. If you loved someone then it meant you cared and if you cared then you grew soft. Soft men died.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

It was nearing dark when the group of ten men came upon the quiet homestead. Marston drew up on his reins and came to a stop beside Jeremiah and Duke.

"Well that sure looks like home for the night to me," Duke noted.  

Marston felt unease settle into his gut. The tiny house was barely standing. There were cracks in the wall to let in the bitter cold. A thin line of smoke rose from the chimney and a skinny horse meandered about the corral.  

Déjà vu washed over Marston and he was frozen in place as the rest of the men rode closer.  

"Wait!" he called.  

"What?" Duke called back with irritation. "I'm cold and...."  

Just then the door to the house opened and two small boys ran out, taking turns hitting one another.  

"Mama!" One of them hollered. "Jacob hit me!"  

"He hit me first!" the other boy exclaimed.  

A thin, tired blond stepped out the door wearing a worn brown dress. She leaned her broom against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. "You wait until your pa gets home tomorrow," she warned. The boys instantly stopped poking at one another. "Now get back in this house before you catch your death out in this cold."  

The three disappeared back into the ramshackle house without ever seeing the ten men in the distance. "Hot damn, Duke! Did you see that?" Hinkley demanded with a hungry grin.  

Duke nodded. "Yep. That poor woman looked awful lonely, boys. Why don't we ride on down there and keep her company while her husband's away?" All of the men chuckled and nodded in agreement.  

All of them except Marston.  

Marston's thoughts were in Louisiana with a red head with tear-filled blue eyes wearing a thin white nightdress, the shadows of her full body revealed in the lantern light. His mind was on a bright-eyed ten year old boy with nails between his lips to keep him from speaking and awe in his eyes as he stared up at Marston.  

"Duke, why don't we just move on?" Marston suddenly spoke up.  

Several of the men grumbled while Duke stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Why?" he demanded. "I don't know about you but I'm cold and could use a good night of rest."  

"Yeah me too!" someone in the group agreed.  

"Rest ain't what you have in mind," Marston practically snarled at Duke and the man raised his brow. Marston sighed. "These people don't have anything to spare, Duke. Look at that place? What do we stand to gain?"  

"Since when do we care if they have it to spare, Marston?" Jeremiah inquired.  

Duke was staring hard at Marston. "You aren't getting soft are you?"  

Marston tensed as Duke dealt him one of the biggest insults a man in their life could be dealt. Marston's hand twitched toward his gun. "No, I ain't soft."  

The air around the men crackled as the gang circled around much like a pack of predators. Marston knew they'd side with Duke if it came to it. If Marston challenged Duke's authority, Duke would respond with deadly force and even if Marston managed to kill Duke, he'd quickly be gunned down by the others.  

This life, this world was deadly and dangerous and Marston wasn't willing to die to save this woman's well-being. These men wouldn't kill her but they would probably leave her wishing she was dead.  

"Do what you gotta do, Duke," Marston backed down but kept his hand near his gun.  

Duke appeared to want to speak and Marston saw questions in his dark eyes but whatever he wanted to say remained unspoken as Duke moved away and motioned for his men. "Let's go boys."  

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jeremiah demanded when the brothers were alone.  

"Not a damn thing," Marston snapped.  

Jeremiah shoved him. "Well snap the hell out of it."  

Marston simply glared and followed after Jeremiah when the man went after the gang. "Hello the house!" Duke called.  

Marston felt his uneasiness grow. He didn't like this. He didn't like it one damn bit.  

"Can I help you...." The woman's voice trailed off when she stepped out her door and took in the sight of all the trail worn men on horseback.  

"We need something to eat," Duke replied.  

"And some company," Hinkley added with a leer.  

"I don't have anything for you," the woman insisted, wringing her hands on her apron and backing away.  

Jeremiah leaped from his horse and was in the doorway before she could get away. "I think you do," he countered with a wink.  

"Get away from my mama!" the oldest of the two boys exclaimed as he came leaping from the house, swinging an iron skillet. Jeremiah was laughing as he caught the boy by the arm and tossed him off the porch. The boy landed in a heap on the frozen ground.  

"Don't hurt my babies!" the woman pleaded.  

Slowly the men dismounted and Marston remained on Buck. "Well then why don't you just cooperate with us and we won't have to," Duke offered.  

The woman's eyes were wide with fear and her chin trembled. The oldest boy was still on the ground trying to regain the breath that his fall had knocked out of him and the youngest boy was watching with wide-eyes from just inside the door.  

Marston saw the pain and turmoil on her face and then he recognized the resolve in her eyes as she squared her shoulders. "Fine." She motioned to her boys. "Boys, go to the barn."  

"But mama!" the oldest exclaimed, leaping to his feet.  

She fixed her son with a sharp look and gestured toward the barn. "Gregory, take him now."  

Gregory tossed the pan aside as his younger brother ran to him. Marston saw the tears in the boy's eyes and something inside of him snapped.  

He couldn't just let this happen.  

"Stop," he growled as he slid slowly from his horse and walked to the porch. The woman was trembling and terrified as Marston turned his back to her and stood facing the gang. "That's enough."  

"Marston?" Jeremiah was clearly confused. "What are you doing?"  

Marston met the oldest boy's gaze. "Why don't you get on in the house with your mama now?"  

"Don't do this, Marston," Duke urged.  

Marston knew that he very well might die. The only chance he stood was to make sure he didn't pull his gun. He would do everything in his power to change these men's minds but even if he failed at least he could say he tried.  

"Duke, this ain't right. Let's just ride on."  

"There won't be any riding on, Marston," Duke countered and the other men nodded heartily in agreement. "We need food and we need warm company and both are waiting right in that house for us."  

Marston glanced at the boys who hadn't yet made a move toward their mama. "No," Marston repeated. "Boys get on inside."  

The oldest boy, Gregory, made a move toward the house and Hinkley jumped forward and shoved the boy hard, slamming him back into the dirt. Marston saw red. "You no good son of a bitch!" he bellowed before leaping from the porch and tackling HInkley to the ground.  

Marston was good in a fight and he was big enough to hold his own but when six more bodies leapt at him, he knew he was in for it. He tucked his head under her his arms and curled up his legs as boots connected with every inch of his body. The pain was intense and he couldn't seem to draw a full breath.  

"Alright, he's had enough," Duke announced, his voice tight.  

Marston wondered why the man called the gang off. Usually he killed any who opposed him, or let his gang do the dirty work for him. Marston realized that Duke and Jeremiah hadn't taken part in his beating. His brother appeared mad enough to bite the heads of nails thouh whether he was mad at the gang or at him, Marston couldn't say.  

"Ma'am, send your kids to the barn," Duke growled.  

The woman did and Marston heard their tiny footsteps run off. He wanted to save that woman what he knew was coming but he couldn't. Hell he was bleeding from his nose and mouth. His had was pounding and he was fairly sure that his ribs were bruised if his difficulty breathing was any indication.  

Marston lay there on the cold ground and heard the men lock themselves into the cabin. The din of their voices, the only sound in the silence of the evening.  

It was a long while before Marston found the strength to push himself to his feet. His chest was aching and he spit out a long stream of blood before wiping his face off the best he could on his shirtsleeve.  

He tried to forget what he knew was happening in that house and instead he limped toward the barn. He barely managed to duck in time to avoid the horseshoe that came flying toward his head. "Stop that!" he scolded.  

Gregory glared at him. "What are they doing to my mama?"  

Marston shook his head. "Nothing you need to know about. How old are you boys?"  

"I'm twelve and Jacob is eight. My pa will be back tomorrow and he'll kill every one of you that hurts my mama."  

"We all gotta die somehow and, boy, I wish your pa the best of luck in his vengeance." Marston rubbed at his swollen nose. "Now, you boys stay in this barn and keep quiet until either your ma or your pa fetches you out. If it's your mama then she's gonna need your help and comfort until your pa makes it home so be strong men for her."   

Two pairs of wide brown eyes stared at him and the boys nodded. Marston reached into his boot and pulled out the derringer he kept inside. He laid it in Gregory's hand. "You know how to use this?"  

"Yes sir."  

Marston nodded. "It's only got one shot so don't go blazing in that house after those men unless you want to make sure that you, your brother and your mama all die. Lock this door from the inside and hopefully you'll be alright but blast anyone that tries to come in and get you if it ain't your ma or pa."  

Gregory nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you.... Those men beat you bad..."  

Marston chuckled, the sound void of any real emotion. "I've had worse, kid."  

Marston stepped back outside and closed the barn door behind him. He stared up at the star dotted sky as his frozen breath swirled around his head. The peaceful illusion around him was shattered by the sound of the woman whimpering and crying out with pain in the house.  

Her quiet sobs might as well have been gunshots they echoed so loudly in Marston's ears.  

Suddenly an image of Rose crying in her kitchen flashed through his mind. Marston's blood froze in his veins. What if men like these found Rose and Langley? What if men like these, men like him, found that cabin and there was no one around to protect them? The thought of anyone laying hands on that boy or his mother caused a rage unlike any Marston had ever felt to flood his senses.  

There wasn't anything else he could do to protect the woman in that house or the boys in that barn. Sure he could try to play hero again and end up dead but then he wouldn't be able to get back to Rose and Langley. These men wouldn't kill this family—that was the only comfort that Marston was able to find with the situation. Marston couldn't leave Rose and Langley to the same fate as this family.. he had to be with them and keep them safe.  

‘Bout time you came to your senses.’

Marston rolled his eyes at the voice and headed toward the horses. He removed Jeremiah’s saddlebags from the gray and tossed them onto the ground before securing the horse to Buck. Rose and Langley needed this horse a hell of a lot more than Jeremiah’s skinny ass.

Marston jumped on Buck and headed out into the night as fast as the horses and his battered body would allow. It would take three weeks to reach Harper Louisiana and Marston could only hope he'd find Rose and Langley alive and well.  

---

"Where the hell is Marston?" Duke asked aloud as the men made their way back outside several hours after dawn.  

"That stupid son of a bitch took off and took my horse with him!" Jeremiah exclaimed as he kicked at his saddlebags on the ground.  

Duke sighed. "We better be riding out, boys. Jeremiah, you can ride with me."  

Jeremiah was cursing with every breath as he hopped up on Duke's horse. Duke paused a moment to watch the thin blond woman stumble from the house and run toward the barn. After everything she'd endured during the night, her first thought this morning was about her children.  

It amazed Duke the lengths some women would go to in order to protect their offspring. Duke hadn't had a mother like that. His mama had tossed him into a ditch as a baby and it had just so happened that an old outlaw found him before the coyotes had.  

"Why'd that bastard take off?" Jeremiah asked quietly for only Duke to hear as the men rode out.  

"I already told you why," Duke stated with despair. "Marston has made the biggest mistake a man can make and it's liable to get him killed. He has started to care."

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Langley was scared. It was morning but his mama wouldn't wake up. She had been okay the night before other than her real bad cough but now she was terrible sick.  

She kept mumbling as she tossed and turned under her covers and when Langley laid his palm on her forehead, her skin had burned him. He knew he should go for the doc but they'd gotten snowfall in the night so he couldn't walk to town and he couldn't saddle the mare on his own.  

"Mama, what can I do to help you?" he whispered, his voice echoing in the quiet of the cabin.  

He pushed a bit of th sweaty hair from her brow when she didn't answer and he pulled the covers up to her chin.  

Langley stood and walked from the room. Never in his life had he felt so helpless and terrified. He wished Marston would come back. His mama had told him that the man would but Langley was beginning to think she had lied to him to spare his feelings.  

Langley kicked the table leg. Why hadn't he gone to the doctor sooner! He'd known his mama was sick but she had kept insisting for weeks that it was simply a cold and she would get better. He never should have listened to her.  

What if that banker showed up while mama was in the bed like she was? He had heard the man demand payment any way he could get it last time and while Langley didn't know exactly what that meant, he knew it was a threat to his mama.  

Just to assure himself that he could protect her, Langley grabbed the rifle from beside the door and tested the weight of it in his hands. Then he went to the counter, grabbed a stale biscuit and tore off a chunk with his teeth.  

Langley went to the fireplace and began to stoke the fire, poking at it and becoming lost in his thoughts and worries. Pounding hooves approaching the cabin, yanked Langley from his thoughts.  

He tossed down the poker and raced toward the gun. Langley scooted a kitchen chair to the door and climbed on so he could stick the rifle barrel out of the hole. Without thinking about what he was doing, and simply wanting to protect his mama, Langley pulled the trigger.  

The recoil of the rifle, sent him stumbling backward and tumbling off the chair. Langley was sent sprawling on the floor and the rifle went sliding away.  

"Dammit!" a man's voice bellowed. "Rose? Langley? Whichever one of you just shot me is going to have the favor returned! I swear on all that is holy, I will put a bullet in your damned ass!"  

"Marston?!" Langley exclaimed as he leaped to his feet and threw open the door. "I didn't kill you, did I?"  

"I'm talking aren't I?" Marston grumbled.  

Langley stared up at him. He was just as big as Langley remembered as he stood there in his duster coat with a blood tear across the sleeve. "I'm sorry, Marston! I thought you was someone else. I didn't hurt you too bad did I?"  

"No, it ain't too bad," Marston replied, relief flooding him at seeing Langley alive and well. "As a matter of fact, you shot me in the same spot my brother has already gotten a time or two."  

"You have a brother?" Langley asked. Marston nodded as he looked over the boy's head for any sign of Rose. "And he shot you?"  

"Yeah, that's right."  

"Wow..." Langley sighed. "I'm glad I don't have a brother."  

"You should be," Langley agreed. "Where's your mama?"  

Langley's blue eyes filled with fear and worry. "She's real sick, Marston. She's been sick for weeks but this morning she won't wake up and she's burning hot."  

Marston pushed past Langley and strode into the cabin, stepping over the fallen chair and heading straight for Rose's bedroom. He stepped inside and his breath caught painfully in his chest. Rose's breath rattled in her lungs, her face was ghastly pale and she was covered in a sheen of sweat. Her red hair was dirty and limp against the white sheets as she lay as still as death upon the bed.  

All the months Marston had wasted running from what he felt for Rose and Langley came crashing down on him and he felt the purest form of remorse and pain nearly tackle him to the floor.  

Marston walked to the edge of the bed on shaking legs and crouched down. He reached out a trembling hand and pushed her hair from her overheated cheeks.  

"What did the doc say?" Marston whispered when Langley stepped into the doorway.  

"He hasn't been here... Mama has been sick for a while but she refused to see him and wouldn't let me go get him. She kept saying she just needed time to get better."  

Marston growled and cursed her stubbornness. Though it wasn't her fault that she was the way she was. She'd had to be strong to raise her son on her own for this long.  

"Go to town and get the damn doc," Marston growled as he stood and faced Langley. "Take the buckskin out there. He's already saddled and ready."  

"Is she gonna be okay, Marston?"  

Marston pointed toward the door. "Go kid."

Even after Langley had left the cabin, Marston didn't let his gaze return to Rose. He didn't like the way the sight of her made him feel. Helplessness was not something Marston was good at. Tenderness and caring were both things that Marston had no experience with. Now that he feeling all three things at once, he was overwhelmed.  

Marston had to forget that this was Rose. He had to forget that this was the angel woman who had wanted him around despite the evil inside of him. He had to forget just how badly he would break if she died. He had to tell himself she was just another person—that's the only way he'd be able to help her.  

The first step was to lower her fever. Marston went to the kitchen and turned on the faucet but no water came—the pipes were frozen. Marston slammed his hand on the counter and then scolded himself. He wasn't usually the type to get so upset over a little thing like frozen pipes.  

Caring about someone else was stressful. It was no wonder he'd never bothered with doing so before. Marston took a deep breath to steady his nerves before grabbing a pot. He filled it from the well outside and placed it on the cook stove to warm a bit.  

He made his way back into Rose's bedroom and gazed down at her. She moaned and shifted restlessly beneath her covers. Looking at her this way proved to be too much and Marston found himself all but running back out of the room.  

With shaking hands, Marston gathered a few washrags from the wash room and then stepped back into the kitchen. With nothing else to do as he waited for his water to heat, Marston leaned against the wall and took stock of his bleeding arm.  

He slid out of his duster coat and growled when the tiny graze Langley had gouged into him burned like fire.  

Tapping his fingers on his legs and pacing back and forth, Marston realized that he had no patience for waiting. The wind whistled outside and Marston felt the cold air come through the drafty wall. That was something he'd have to remedy.  

Marston stoked up the fire in the fireplace and noted that the wood box was nearly empty. He'd have to fill it as well....  

Finding that he was running out of things to occupy his racing mind, Marston grabbed the water, which was still cool but no longer ice cold and he carried the pot and the washrags into the bedroom.  

Soaking a rag, Marston wrung out the access water and sat gently on the side of the bed. He braced one arm on the opposite side of Rose's still form and softly began to smooth the washrag over her heated brow.

He had no idea how long he simply sat there. He ran that washrag along her brow, over her soft cheeks and down her graceful neck. He silently willed her to wake up but other than her eyelids fluttering and her labored breaths, there was no other sign of life coming from her.  

"Rose?" Marston whispered, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. "Rose, you need to wake up now. Your boy is worried about you."  

Marston sat the washrag on the bedside table and laid his hand over her cheek. His skin was dark against hers and the softness of her skin caused the roughness of his own to stand out in sharp contrast.  

He ran his calloused thumb over her full bottom lip and stooped lower to place a tender kiss to her brow, pouring strength into her and hoping against hope she would awaken.  

"Marston...?" she moaned.  

Marston sat bolt upright and stared down at her. Her blue eyes fluttered open but they were bright with fever and not entirely focused. "Hi Rose," he greeted as he teased her damp red curls.  

She offered a weak smile. "You're here."  

"Yeah, I'm here," he whispered. If the men he'd once run with could see and hear him now, they wouldn't recognize him as Marston caressed Rose's cheek and did nothing to hide the emotions shining in his eyes.  

"You're so handsome," she admitted sleepily, raising her hand and laying it on his bearded cheek. He knew it was more than likely her fever talking but he'd still gladly accept the compliment.  

"Thank you, ma'am."  

"Do you still think I'm pretty?"  

Marston frowned. He couldn't remember ever telling her that she was pretty. She was. She was downright beautiful and so Marston told her so.  

 A bright smile lit her face and then she coughed and cried out as she clutched her chest. "I'm sick..." she whispered.  

"I know." Marston swallowed hard and helped her get comfortable once again. "You're real sick."  

Another wracking cough shook her fevered body and Marston once again grabbed that rag and began to smooth it over her brow. "Shh..." he urged as she whimpered. "Rest, Rose. The doctor will be here soon."  

"I'm sick..." she mumbled again, her eyelids slowly slipping closed.  

"I know."  

"You're back."  

"Uh-uh," Marston agreed as he ran the rag over the tiny mole above her collarbone.  

"God does answer prayers," Rose announced before slipping back into unconsciousness.  

Marston's hand still as he stared down at the woman in that bed. She had prayed he'd come back? After the way he had abandoned her, she had still wanted him around? Could Marston be the man that this woman clearly thought he could?

Marston was still sitting there lost in thoughts when Langley returned with the doctor. When Doctor Brinkley came into the room, Marston quickly stood and distanced himself from the bed. He slipped his mask of indifference back on his face and greeted the older man.  

"Langley told me she's had a terrible cough for nearly a month and now she is feverish and won't wake up," the doctor stated. "Does that cover it?"  

Marston shrugged. "I just arrived so I couldn't say how long it's been going on. If the boy says it's been a month than I guess it has. She came to for a minute or so while Langley was gone fetching you but then she went right back out."  

Doctor Brinkley nodded and stepped toward the bed. "You two wait outside. I'll see what I can do for her."  

Marston and Langley were quick to obey and while Langley locked himself up in his room, Marston went out onto the porch. He should probably try to comfort the boy since it was clear he was scared but, hell, what could Marston say? He was damned scared himself.  

Marston settled himself down in the rocking chair and pulled a rolled cigarette and pack of matches from his pocket. He took several long slow draws in an attempt to settle his nerves.  

Damn but all these feelings were new! He had never, not once in his life, felt this kind of worry for another person. If something happened to that woman....

If something happened to Rose than Marston would take Langley under his wing and ensure the boy was taken care of. After leaving her alone to fend for herself the last few months it was the least Marston could do.  

"God?" he spoke quietly. "It's me again—that guy You don't much care for who doesn't much care for You back. You know I never ask You for anything and You've damn sure never seen fit to give me anything but I'm telling You now to lay off that woman in there. That boy needs his mother and she's a damn good soul. You best let her get better."  

Marston nearly swallowed his own tongue when a mourning dove flew across the yard and landed on the porch rail only a few feet from where Marston was sitting.  

The bird and Marston stared hard at one another for several long moments and then the bird flew away once again. Marston took another draw off his cigarette and sighed. He was going to take that as a sign that Rose would be fine.  

Desperation?

Probably.  

But at this point desperation was all he had.  

---

"She should be fine," Doctor Brinkley stated as he and Langley joined Marston on the porch a short time later.  

Marston stood quickly and nodded. "What's wrong..." he stopped and cleared his throat when he realized how thick his voice sounded. "What's wrong with her?"  

"Lung infection and she let it get out of hand. If she had come to me sooner, I could have stopped it before it got this bad. Do you have any idea why she didn't?"

Both Langley and Marston shook their heads. "No, but I intend to find out just as soon as she wakes up," Marston assured the doctor.  

Doctor Brinkley nodded and wrapped his wool coat tighter around himself. "I left her some medicine beside the bed. Something for fever and something for the cough. If her fever hasn't broken by morning come and fetch me. If I don't hear from you then I'll ride back out in three days to see how she's faring."  

"What do I owe you?" Marston asked.  

Doctor Brinkley sighed. "I know things are hard for Rose..."  

Marston shook his head. "Don't worry about that," he growled. "What do I owe you?"  

"Let's just say a dollar and leave it at that."  

Marston stepped off the porch and rummaged in the saddlebags still laying over Buck. He pulled out a dollar and laid it in the doctor's gloved hand. "Thank you, doctor," Marston said, finding that he nearly choked on the unfamiliar words.  

The doctor tipped his head. "You're welcome. Now, you and Langley see to it that she rests. She needs rest and lots of it. It could be weeks before she feels as if she's back to her old self."

Marston nodded. "Don't worry, doc. I'm not going anywhere."  

Doctor Brinkley nodded. "Alright then. I'll be going. Maybe soon this cold snap will break and we'll all have a bit of relief."  

Marston nodded and he and Langley watched the doctor climb onto his cart and ride away. "So mama is going to be okay then?" Langley asked once they were alone.  

"That's what the doc said," Marston replied. "Now let's get these horses put away and then cut up some wood. You're running low."  

"Sounds good to me," Langley agreed. "Golly gee, Marston, it sure is good to have you back. I've missed you and so has mama. She never said so out loud but I could tell. Why did you stay gone so long? Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter now that you're back. Are you gonna stay around this time"

Marston blew out a long breath as he grabbed Buck's reins. "If your mama will let me."  

"Good! She'll let you, I'm sure of it. I'm sorry I shot your arm. Does it hurt? Well, of course it hurts. What kind of question was that? A pretty dumb one, I reckon. It sure is good to have you back here though."  

Marston fought back a grin and forced out a grumble in response to the boy's rambling—he had an image to uphold after all. But in all honesty, it felt damn good to be back.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Rose groaned as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her dry mouth. Her body felt sore and sluggish but the burning in her lungs seemed to have eased. She kept her eyes closed as a smile curved her lips.

Rose had had wonderful dreams.  

She had dreamt of Marston. His strong arms had been holding her close as his deep voice whispered soothingly into her ear. His big hands had caressed her face and his breath had teased her hair. Rose had even dreamed that she had woken up and spoke to him once and he'd been warm and tender.  

She frowned.  

The dreams hadn't been wonderful, they'd been mean. Marston was gone.  

Pushing thoughts of him away, Rose took stock of herself. She truly did feel a little better. She wondered how long she'd been lying in this bed. Her body was so weak, Rose didn't know if she would even have the strength to get up.  

But she had to get up.  

She had to cook Langley some breakfast and sew the pants for Old Man Tippler. The floors needed scrubbing and she had to chop more firewood.  

Rose shifted on the bed and opened her eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she would have screamed if she could have managed a sound.  

Sprawled in a chair beside the bed was Marston. His long, thick legs were stretched out in front of him and his hands were dragging the floor on either side of the chair. His bearded chin was resting on his chest and quiet snores filled the room.  

There was blood on his arm, his clothes were dirty, torn and stained and he looked all around filthy as his brown hair lay over his brow and covered his ears.  

Why was Marston here? And why had he snuck into her bedroom only to fall asleep in the chair?

Rose did her best to force her aching muscles to listen as she shifted upon the mattress. At the faint rustling of the sheets, Marston's golden eyes shot open and he was crouched beside her bed in an instant.  

"Damn woman, but if you ain't a sight for sore eyes I don't know what is," he whispered. "It sure is good to see those blue eyes again. I didn't think you'd ever wake up."  

Rose frowned. Marston sounded different. He didn't sound rough or cold or charming and slick. He sounded tender and caring just as he had in her dreams. He grabbed a glass of water and held it Rose's lips. She took several small sips and he pulled the glass away.  

"Why are you here?" Rose asked, glancing toward the window and realizing it was dark... the lantern beside the bed illuminated the shadows in her room. Why was it dark? It should be morning!  

She curled her nose as a horrific scent burned her senses. Then she realized the smell was coming from her and she nearly gagged.  

What was going on....?

"You said if I was ever around I could stop by," Marston reminded her.  

"Yes but why are you in my room? Why is it dark? And why do I smell like a hog lot?"  

Marston brought his face close to hers and gazed into her eyes with a tenderness that caused her body to ache. She wondered what it would feel like to have Marston hold her close—then again he'd done so in her dreams and Rose was beginning to suspect that they hadn't only been dreams.  

"I'm in your room because I was worried about you and couldn't force myself to leave it," Marston admitted. "And it's dark because that's what happens at night and I won't comment on the way you smell. I might be an outlaw but even I have manners."  

"But why were you worried?"

"Why?" Marston shook his head. "Because you've been damned sick woman. If you'd have stayed asleep just a few more hours you would have been three days unconscious in your bed. I showed up here a few days ago and you were delirious with fever in your bed and poor Langley was scared to death. I sent him after the doc and the doc said you have a lung infection...."

Rose groaned. "You sent for the doc?"  

"Yes." Marston's golden eyes narrowed. "And you need to get to explaining why you didn't do so sooner."  

Rose's stomach clenched as a loud growl came from deep within it. She grimaced and laid her hand over her middle. "Can I eat before you scold me?"

Marston grumbled unintelligibly under his breath as he stood straight. "I'll bring you something. You have to stay in this bed. The doc said you need rest. He'll be by today to check on you again but I can tell already that your breathing sounds better. So you stay in this bed and let me get your food. The doc said it could be weeks until you're feeling strong again."  

"Weeks?!" Rose exclaimed, whimpering when pain tore through her lungs.

Marston laid a gentle hand on her dirty hair. "Calm yourself, woman," he warned, the sternness in his voice not matching the tenderness in his touch.  

"But Marston.. I can't stay in this bed for weeks. I have things to do."  

"No you don't," Marston quickly replied. He squared his shoulders and Rose knew she had met her match in stubbornness. "I'm here now and I'll take care of things. Now, let me go get you something for that stomach."  

"Marston?" Rose called, stopping him in the doorway.  

He turned and raised his brow. "What?"  

Rose fidgeted and toyed with the sheet covering her. "How long.. how long do you plan on staying for?"  

Marston gripped the door frame and his eyes dropped to his boots. "For as long as you'll have me, Rose."  

Rose found this display of nervousness from the large men endearingly sweet and his words were not lost on her. For as long as she'd have him? She could hardly believe this was happening at all. Perhaps she was still unconscious and this was merely a fever induced dream.  

She smiled. "Forever should do."  

Marston's head rose instantly and Rose nearly slapped herself for saying such a foolish thing. Surely the man would run screaming for the hills!

But instead, the hint of a smile curved his lips and he nodded before turning and walking out of her bedroom. He returned several minutes later with a steaming bowl in his hands and an excited Langley on his heels.  

"Mama! You're awake!" Langley exclaimed.

Rose hugged him tight when he threw his arms around her neck. "I'm sorry I scared you, baby."  

"I'm not a baby, mama," Langley countered, pulling away from her. "Marston is teaching me how to be a man. He's taught me all kinds of stuff since he came back."  

"Really?" Rose asked.  

Marston grunted and used his elbow to nudge Langley to the side. Marston kicked the chair closer to the bed and took a seat. "Give your mama some breathing room, boy," he scolded but Rose could see his affection for her son shining in his eyes and the sight of it caused Rose's heart to swell with love for the outlaw.  

Marston sat the bowl on the table and helped Rose to sit up, propped against her pillows. "Why am I so weak and floppy?" she grumbled, unaccustomed to needing help doing anything.  

Marston chuckled. "Floppy?"  

"Yes," Rose snapped with irritation. "I can hardly move at all on my own."  

"Probably your medicine and the fact that you've been so sick and in this bed for so long," Marston guessed. He picked the bowl back up and blew on the steaming contents.  

The scent of chicken broth teased her nose and Rose felt her mouth begin to water. "You made that?" she asked.  

Marston nodded as he scooped up a spoonful and moved it toward her lips. Rose frowned. "Can't I feed myself?"

"Nope," Marston replied. When she glared he let out a long breath. "Give me a break, Rose. I've never cared about anybody in the world enough to want to take care of them. Let me take care of you."  

Rose's heart skipped a beat. "You care about me?"  

Marston's golden eyes narrowed. "Open up."  

Rose did as he ordered and was happy that she did. The broth was delicious and full of flavor on her tongue. She swallowed it quickly and opened her mouth for more which Marston seemed more than happy to give to her.  

"Gosh mama, me and Marston have been busy," Langley said as he sat at the foot of the bed. "We patched the walls up so they're not drafty anymore and we fixed the hole in the barn roof so the horses don't get snowed and rained on. Marston even let me chop down a tree and the woodshed is so full it's busting apart! You should see it, mama!"  

"That's good," Rose whispered, feeling overwhelmed. She was exhausted, her body weak and her mind fuzzy. She had very nearly died... she had very nearly left Langley all alone in the world. But once again Marston had come. Marston was back, he was changed and he seemed to want to stay.  

Rose wondered what had happened to bring about the change in the man and return him to her. She suspected that she probably did not want to know. All that mattered was that he was with them now. With Marston here, life would be so much easier.  

Winston Meade would no longer be able to harm her. And even if he did take her cabin away, Rose knew that Marston was the type of man who knew how to survive and he would help her ensure that Langley had a place to live. They would never go cold or hungry as long as they had Marston.

But it wasn't just having him to share the load with that made Rose happy Marston was back. Rose wanted to know what it felt like to be loved and cherished by a man. All of her life she had only known harshness from them, at least until Langston, but Marston was not the father figure that Langston had been. Marston was a young, strong, handsome, man who could very well be her man—that though both thrilled and terrified her.  

And then there was the pain that Rose knew Marston carried inside him. She was pleased that he had returned to them so that Rose could care for him. She wanted to help his soul heal. She knew he could help her heal what was still broken inside of her. The gentle, caring Marston sitting beside her now was exactly what her abused heart needed.  

"Thank you, Marston," she whispered. "For coming back, for taking care of Langley, for taking care of me... thank you."  

Marston growled and shoved another spoonful of broth into her mouth. "What have I told you about thanking me for things?"  

Rose simply smiled and Marston sighed. "You're welcome."  

Langley laughed at Marston's pouting before launching into another long winded story about all the fun they'd been having while she'd been unconscious.  

---

"I need to clean up," Rose stood her ground as Marston glared. The doc had come and gone and confirmed that Rose was indeed on the road to recovery but would need rest.  

Rest? Rose didn't even know what that word meant!

"I can heat up some water and you can sponge off in here," Marston replied stubbornly, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest as he stood in the doorway.  

"No. I'll wash off in the water closet."  

"That water will be cold, Rose."

"I'll be fine, Marston. Now, why don't you go find something to keep yourself busy while I'm cleaning up?"  

Marston shook his head. "You're gonna need help."  

Rose glared and tried to tell herself he was only being helpful. She wasn't accustomed to being treated like a child. "I can manage," she insisted. Rose tossed back the dirty sheets and it took her several painstakingly long moments to throw her legs over the edge of the bed.  

She pushed herself onto her feet only to realize she couldn't support her weight and she tumbled back down onto the mattress. Her cheeks burned as she felt Marston's gaze burning holes in her. "You want that help now?"

Rose felt horror cloud her judgment. Let him see her nude?! Have his eyes look upon the scars that covered her? The disgust she would see on his face would be more than Rose could bear.

And if Rose were without clothes and there were no boundaries between them, would Marston take advantage?  

Marston met her gaze and hurt flashed in his golden eyes. "If I was going to take advantage of you, I would have done it while you were unconscious."  

Rose felt her face redden with shame. "I never said a word about that."  

Marston snorted. "Yeah, but I don't have to be a mind reader to know you thought it. Dammit, I've done some bad things to a lot of people but hurting you or that boy isn't something I'm gonna add to the list."  

"Okay," came Rose's weak reply.  

"Then will you let me help you?"

Rose nodded, unable to find the strength to sit back up. Marston left the room and Rose wondered where he was going. She heard the water turn on in the water closet and then Marston was back.  

He'd removed his bandolier and all his weapons but somehow that didn't make him seem any less deadly as he took up all the space in the doorway.  

Marston closed the distance between them and scooped her out of the bed, cradling her against his chest the way a husband would his new bride. "What are you doing?" she demanded, fearing for his back. Rose was not dainty nor was she light.  

"Can't you just shut your trap and let me take care of you without making a big deal of it?" Marston grumbled.  

"You don't have to be so grumpy," Rose snapped. "I'm not used to being taken care of."  

"Well I'm not used to taking care of anyone so let's just go with it and pretend it's normal."  

Rose smiled as she buried her face in his chest and breathed him in. Horses, sweat, dust and blood—Marston smelled every bit the outlaw that he was.  

When he carried her into the water closet, Rose saw the chair he had placed under the spray of water. He sat her gently on her feet but still held her close, supporting her body with his own. "I'll help you out of your gown and get you settled in the chair and then I'll leave."  

Rose's heart froze. "I'll remove my gown myself."  

Marston frowned. "Woman, you can hardly raise your arms. Let me help you."  

"No!" she snapped viciously.  

Marston took a step back. "What the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded harshly. "Do you think I'm going to take one look at you without your clothes, throw you down and force you right here on the water closet floor while your son feeds the horses outside? Weren't you the goddamn one who said I wasn't all bad?"  

Rose bit her lip. He remembered that? She leaned against the wall for support. "It's not that I think you'd... do 

that ,“ she insisted. “It’s just that I haven’t… I haven’t been undressed in front of a man in a long time and….” Rose found that she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the scars.

She glanced at the mirror and gasped. There was certainly no fear of the man succumbing to desire for her. Her hair was limp and dirty, her face pale, her lips colorless and her eyes surrounding by dark circles. Her gown was dirty and hanging off of her and she mustn't forget the scent she could smell coming from her.  

"Rose?" Marston's voice was soft. "I'm not sure what's going on in that head of yours but I'm not going to hurt you."  

Rose nodded, let out a long steadying breath and looked him in the eye. "Okay. Just don't look at me, alright? Close your eyes and don't open them again until you're out in the kitchen."  

Marston grumbled under his breath. He'd likely break a damn leg trying to get around with his eyes closed. Not to mention the fact that he wanted to finally gaze upon the damn body that had been haunting his dreams for months.  

"Okay," he agreed. Marston stepped to her and could feel her trembling with fear as he undid the top buttons of her gown. "Raise your arms," he urged gently.  

She did and Marston closed his eyes tight before lifting the gown over her head and tossing it to the floor. He followed the sound of water to lead Rose to the shower and helped her to sit down in the chair.  

Marston backed out of the room and nearly fulfilled his promise but couldn't stop himself from sneaking the tiniest of peeks. He knew her back would be to him from here and she would never know....

Marston opened his eyes and the sight he was met with filled him with an all-consuming, indescribable rage.  

Scars marred her beautiful pale skin. Horrible, raised scars. Long, thin scars. Scars that Marston would recognize anywhere since he was covered in a few himself. Someone had beaten his Rose with a whip.  

Marston took several slow, steadying breaths, reminding himself that he wasn't supposed to have seen them. "Just holler for me when you're done," he said and he heard her murmur in agreement.  

Marston stepped out of the room and closed the door before pacing the cabin like a caged animal. What in the hell had happened to that woman? Marston would find out one day. One day she would trust him enough to tell him and Marston would see that whoever was responsible paid with their life.  

For now, he busied himself by stripping the soiled sheets and pillowcases from Rose's bed and replacing them with clean ones.

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Nightmares had Rose gasping for breath as she shot upright in bed. She ran her hand over her sweaty curls and pulled her blanket tighter around her, clutching it in her fingers.

Tonight the nightmares had been her time spent in that wagon. Her adoptive father had started up his own sex slave business and he had kept her and several more 

daughters prisoner inside and sold their time and their bodies for whatever money he could get. She had dreamt of the night that he himself had raped her…The night that Langley had been conceived. She knew that had been the night because it had been the only night that month that she had been raped.

Her adoptive father had beaten her face so badly after that she'd been unwanted by the men who showed up and three weeks after the rape, Langston had come and paid nearly one hundred dollars to take her away and have her as his own.  

Her adoptive father had been all too happy to let her go for that small fortune.  

Rose shivered and slowly got to her feet, her weak legs protesting the movement. She shuffled across the room using the furniture for support and took her robe from the hook by the door. After sliding into it, Rose went into the kitchen, lit the lamp and laid her head against the cabinets to try to force the memories away.  

"You okay?"  

Marston's voice caused her to open her eyes and turn quickly. He was laying on that sofa that was several feet too small for him and his golden eyes were watching her closely. Rose hadn't realized he'd been sleeping inside....

"I didn't mean to disturb you," she apologized.  

Marston shrugged but he didn't get up. "You didn't. Bad dreams again?"

Rose poured a glass of water and took a shaky sip. "Yes."  

"You want to talk about them?"  

"No," she quickly snapped and then she saw his hurt and she sighed. "Not yet."  

"You need to go rest, Rose," Marston insisted.  

Rose knew he was right. She took one last sip of water and placed her glass on the counter. She turned toward her bedroom but her weak legs had finally done all they could and they gave out beneath her. She prepared herself for the fall she knew she was going to take and nearly cried out with shock when instead she found herself once again lifted into Marston's arms and cradled against his chest.  

"How did you move so fast?" she gasped.  

He laughed lightly. "I've been told I'm part Indian. Maybe that has something to do with it."  

As he carried her to her bed, Rose marveled at the fact that being held by Marston this way didn't frighten her. For some reason her fear of being touched disappeared when it was Marston doing the touching.  

She found herself placed gently upon her bed and her covers were pulled up to her chin before her hair was smoothed from her face. "I've never been tucked into bed," Rose admitted.  

She saw Marston's throat work as he swallowed hard. "I've never tucked anyone into bed."  

"You do a good job," she assured him as he made sure the blanket was snug around her. Rose could definitely see herself getting used to being pampered this way.  

Marston smiled. "I'm glad you think so." He wanted nothing more than to kiss her but he could see the uncertainty in her blue eyes. It was hard for Marston to deny urges that he'd never once in his life bothered to deny before but somehow he forced himself to settle for pressing a light kiss to her soft cheek.  

Marston heard her gasp and her eyes were shining as he pulled away. "Should I not have done that?" he asked uncertainly. He wished he could be more sure of himself but he was in completely unchartered territory just now.  

"You should have done that," Rose assured him, color staining her cheeks. She rubbed her fingers over the place his lips had touched and he frowned.  

"What's wrong?"  

She shrugged, clearly embarrassed. "Your... your beard is scratchy."  

Marston chuckled. "Maybe your skin is just too soft."  

Rose smiled so bright it took Marston's breath. "You could be right."  

"Get some sleep," he urged as he stood straight. "If you have any more of those dreams, don't try to get up. Just call my name and I'll come."  

Rose was awestruck as he left the room. She had never once imagined a man could be like Marston. He was a completely different man than he had been that September night when he had treated her so cold and ridden off in the night. Rose prayed that he truly meant it when he said he wanted to stay with them—she wasn't sure how she would pick herself back up if he left again.  

She knew that she still needed to tell him about the banker but she hadn't wanted to ruin the day—she'd been enjoying this new side of him too much. She would tell him tomorrow.  

Rose curled up under the covers and smiled. Marston awoke something inside of her that Rose had never felt before. She felt a desire for him that was strong and shocking—and he filled her heart with a love for him so strong that it scared her. Rose realized with clarity that she did indeed love Marston—she loved him with everything she had.  

---

Marston grabbed the lamp that Rose had lit in the kitchen and carried it into the water closet. He ran his hand over the thick beard he’d had for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t attached to it, necessarily. He’d simply grown it to cover the circular scar on his cheek that he’d gotten when the headmaster at the orphanage had put his lit cigar out on Marston’s face—that had been the last time Marston had ever tried to give his blankets to someone smaller and colder than himself.

Duke had insisted that Marston cover the scar before they began to work because scars were too identifiable. No one he had met since leaving that orphanage even knew that Marston had the scar and there was no mention of it on any wanted poster. Hell, Marston wasn't even sure he was wanted any longer.  

The poster that had his name had been issued nearly ten years ago and they were a scribbled face with no name and a five hundred dollar bounty. Since then Marston had dined with sheriffs, deputies, marshals and even several Pinkertons.  

Marston was no longer on their radar. They had bigger and badder outlaws to hunt down. A man who robbed but only killed in self-defense, one who threatened but very rarely harmed and one who had his fun with paid for women instead of unwilling ones simply wasn't high on their priority list.  

Yeah, it was time for Marston to lose the beard. His days of roaming and breaking laws were over. And if his beard bothered Rose and was going to interfere with kissing than Marston would be glad to see the thing gone.  

He lathered up his face and grabbed his knife.  

---

"Wow Marston! You look different!" Langley exclaimed as he came out of his room the next morning and Marston tossed a plate of eggs onto the table.  

"Eat up, kid. Then you gotta go feed the critters." 	

Langley nodded. “You eat yet?” he asked.

Marston shook his head. "Not yet. I was gonna go get your mama."  

Langley sat down his fork. "I'll wait then. It's been a while since we've said Grace and I think mama will want to say it with me... if it still makes your stomach hurt you can plug your ears."  

Marston raised his brow. "I'm pretty sure that was disrespectful but I'll let it go since you're going to muck out the stalls today too."  

Langley hung his head and kicked the table leg. "Yessir." Marston was chuckling as he sat two more plates of eggs on the table. Langley picked at his with his fork. "These eggs are runny."  

"The chicken coop could stand to be cleaned out too."  

Langley shook his head and smiled in earnest. "These eggs look plumb delicious!" he exclaimed far too brightly.  

Marston wanted to be stern but the damn boy was too much and he couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I'll be right back," Marston said with a shake of his head.  

He walked into Rose's bedroom and paused. She was sleeping peacefully and her red hair spilled across the pillows. Her full lips were parted slightly as she snored quietly. Marston wished he could take a picture of this moment so he could carry the image with him.  

He stepped to the bed and knelt beside it. He hated to wake her but she needed food to help rebuild her strength. "Rose? Rose, you gotta wake up," he urged gently.  

Her eyes fluttered open and then she let out a scream and jumped away from him. Marston nearly fell over backward with fear as he spun and searched for what could have scared her. "What the hell is your problem, woman?" he demanded, turning to face her once more.  

"Marston....? It's you," she gasped.  

Marston feared for her sanity. "Yeah, it's me. Who the hell did you think was in your damn bedroom?"  

Rose tilted her head as she studied him. "You shaved your face."  

Marston nodded as he ran his hand over his smooth jaw. "Yeah and my face is damn cold too."  

Rose smiled but could scarcely breathe. The man was more handsome than she could have imagined. He was all hard lines and sharp angles. His lips were full but firm and his cheekbones were high. She could certainly see why people thought he may have indian blood in him.  

Marston smiled and the line around his eyes deepened while lines she hadn't realized he had in his cheeks, crinkled around his mouth. Rose would have swooned if she were that type of woman "You okay?" he asked.  

"Just fine," she replied, sitting up.  

Marston nodded and stood straight. "I have some breakfast ready and the kid is waiting until you come out to eat because he said you all need to say Grace. Do you need help getting dressed?"  

"No, I can manage."  

Rose found herself left alone and she stood slowly. She hated this weakness but comforted herself with the knowledge that it would pass soon. Rose pulled a blue gingham dress from her wardrobe that had long sleeves and a modest neckline. Once dressed, she placed her brown belt around her waist to emphasize her curves a bit. She had to show Marston that she wasn't a complete loss now that he was so devilishly handsome.  

She slid on her ankle boots and secured her hair away from her face while still allowing it to hang in long curls down her back. All of this took ten minute and Rose was near collapse by the time she finished.  

She opened her bedroom door and Marston was to her in an instant, clearly reading the fatigue on her face. He helped her to the table, pulled out her seat and then pushed it back in once he was seated. He took his own seat across the table from her and Rose blushed when she felt his eyes roam over her body.  

"Are we ready for Grace now?" Langley demanded impatiently. "Because I'm so hungry that even these runny eggs are starting to look real good."  

"Langley!" Rose snapped but Marston just smiled.  

"Go ahead and say your Grace, kid," he urged, giving Rose a look that clearly meant to let it go. She wondered just how closed her son and Marston had gotten while she'd been ill as Marston winked Langley's way and the boy laughed.  

---

"Marston, I can wash clothes," Rose argued stubbornly later that day as Marston put away the breakfast dishes that he had insisted on washing.  

"No, you can stay here on the sofa next to the fire where it's warm. If you have to do something you can sew."  

Rose rolled her eyes. "I need fresh air."  

Marston nodded. "Fine. I'll open the shutters so you can have a breeze now that's warmed up a bit outside."  

Rose sensed he was trying real hard to compromise but it simply wasn't enough. "Marston, I am a twenty-seven year old grown woman who is more than accustomed to taking care of herself. I don't need to be ordered around!"  

"Rose, I don't know how old I am exactly but do know it's at least a few years older than you and 

I say that you’re staying in here where it’s warm.“

Rose paused... "You don't know how old you are?"  

Marston shook his head. "My mother was a whore and birthdays just weren't important." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Now stop trying to change the subject and tell me you're going to behave."  

"But..."  

"No buts!" Marston snapped. "The doctor said you needed to rest and I intend to see that you do. That means you're not going out there and scrubbing them clothes until your fingers bleed." Rose opened her mouth to speak again but Marston silenced her with a sharp glare. "Stop arguing with me. I'm not good with arguing and I'm more likely to simply gag you and hog tie you to this couch to get my way."  

Rose stared hard at him. She wanted to say he was lying and wouldn't truly do those things but judging by the look in his eye there was a good chance he was very serious. She sighed and flopped back against the sofa. "Fine."  

Marston smiled with victory. He fetched her sewing from her bedroom and brought it to her. He also brought her a plate of biscuits from the kitchen and the pitcher of water with a glass just in case she got hungry while he was busy.  

Rose watched him with disbelief as he did all of this and then stoked up the fire in in the fireplace and the cook stove. "There you're all settled in," Marston said, glancing around. "If you need anything else just yell for me. I'll stay close enough to hear you."  

"I would say thank you," Rose said. "But you don't seem to like it when I do."  

He flashed a smile that had her heart stuttering. "Good to see you're learning."  

Marston went about gathering the soap and dirty clothes and piled them into a basket. He propped the basket on his hip and then paused at the door. "You look mighty pretty today."  

Rose was left there at a loss for words as Marston left the cabin and she found herself alone.  

---

Washing clothes was harder than Marston had suspected it would be. He had never bothered with doing it before. He'd always just stolen new clothes when his old ones wore out.  

Marston pulled off his hat and blew his thick brown hair from his face as he scrubbed a particularly stubborn stain on Langley's trousers.  

Marston heard a twig snap behind him just before a familiar voice made his blood run cold. "What the hell are you doing, Marston?"  

Marston dropped the washboard and pants into the water filled bucket and slowly stood straight as he turned. "What the hell are you doing here, Duke?"

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

“Jeremiah and I followed you,” Duke replied.

Marston found his eyes going to Jeremiah who was heading for the barn where Marston knew Langley was currently cleaning stalls. "Stop right there, Jeremiah," Marston warned, drawing his revolver and cocking it as he aimed it directly between Jeremiah's shoulder blades.  

Jeremiah stopped in his tracks, raised his hands high and turned to face Marston. "I was just gonna see if my damn horse was in there."  

"There ain't nothing in that barn that concerns you," Marston growled. He hoped Langley would be wise enough to stay in that damn barn. He didn't want Rose or Langley exposed to these types of people. The fact that he was the same kind of person was not lost on him but he knew that he would never do a single thing to hurt the woman or the boy—Marston couldn't say the same for his brother and Duke.  

"Okay then..." Jeremiah replied, throwing a concerned glance at Duke.

"Jeremiah, get over here and stand next to Duke," Marston ordered, motioning with his revolver. Jeremiah was quick to obey.  

Duke frowned. "You look like a regular old housewife, Marston. What are you doing washing clothes and shacking up with some woman and her brat?"  

Marston holstered his gun and his fists tightened until his knuckles popped. "You've been watching me?" he ground out, cursing himself for not being more vigilant.  

"Yep," Jeremiah chuckled. "And I haven't seen your face that smooth since you were suckling on mama's tit."  

"That's real cute," Marston grumbled. "Who the hell did you bring with you?"  

Jeremiah grinned. "Damn Marston, what kind of monsters do you think we are? It's just me and Duke here. We wouldn't have tracked you down with the whole gang."  

"Why don't you answer my question, Marston," Duke insisted. "What the hell are you doing here? You ain't trying to settle down are you? I taught you better than that."  

Marston shook his head. "Don't you worry about what I'm doing."  

"She must be a pretty one to have you out here playing cleaning lady. We haven't seen her out though. Does she have the same red hair as that boy?"  

Marston reached out and grabbed his skinny brother by the throat. "Don't go worrying yourself about that woman or that boy, understand? They belong to me and if you so much as breathe in their direction I'll make sure you don't breathe no more. This isn't one of your little games and you can't just go in there and take what you want."  

Jeremiah's eyes widened while Duke shook his head. "We weren't the only ones that played that game, Marston. You might not have enjoyed it as much as we did but you always came right along."  

Marston removed his hand from his brother's throat and took a step back as he shoved his and through his hair. "I'm playing different games now," he snarled.  

Jeremiah rubbed at his bruising throat. "I can see that."  

Duke glared at Marston. "You think you're better than us now?" he demanded and Marston heard Langley's footsteps come out of the barn. "As far as I'm concerned it still seems like you're playing the game. Just how long did it take before you had that little boy's mama flat on her back and screaming your name?"  

Langley gasped but Marston had a more violent reaction. His fist rammed hard into the side of Duke's face and Duke instantly hit the ground. Jeremiah took a step back and raised his hands, clearly in no hurry to be sprawled on the dirt the way Duke was.  

"You'll watch what you say," Marston snarled as he glared down at Duke's shocked expression.  

Duke nodded and Marston reached down a hand and helped the older man to his feet. "I guess I was wrong," Duke admitted as he rubbed at his red jaw. "You aren't playing a game, are you?"

"No, I ain't playing a game," Marston agreed. He turned to Langley. "Are you done with those stalls?"  

Langley shook his head and Marston could tell he was trembling. Marston crouched down to the boy's level. "Why are you scared?" he demanded, doing his best to sound uninterested even as he hoped his eyes would show the boy he cared.  

"Are these men gonna hurt me and mama?" Langley whispered.  

"Of course not!" Duke assured him. "We're just here to visit Marston."  

"He's my brother you know," Jeremiah added.  

Langley's eyes widened. "He's the one that shot you?" he asked Marston.  

Marston nodded. "Everything is gonna be fine, Langley. Get back to the barn now and finish your chores."  

Langley nodded and quickly raced back into the barn. "Why look at you, Marston," Jeremiah mused. "You've turned into a regular old, soft family man."  

Marston tensed at being called soft. Soft men weren't taken seriously. Soft men were weak. Soft men ended up dead. Without giving either man time to react, Marston pulled his revolver with one hand and his knife with the other. In less than a heartbeat he had his knife at Jeremiah's throat and his gun stuck deep in Duke's gut.  

"I ain't soft, dammit," he growled. "Keep thinking that way and I'll show you what your insides look like. Lay a hand on either of these people and I'll show you a little slower. Are we understood?"  

Jeremiah was quick to nod and after a few moments of studying Marston closely Duke nodded as well. "Yeah Marston. We're understood." Duke sighed. "Marston, we didn't come for trouble. Your brother and I were worried about you. You were beat up when you left and neither one of us liked how we left things."  

Marston frowned as he put away his weapons. "Worrying about others is against your rules, Duke."  

"Sometimes rules are meant to be broken," Duke shrugged. "I nearly shot them damn men for attacking you the way they did even though you asked for it. Damn you for making me watch that, Marston. I couldn't interfere without looking soft and looking soft in front of those bastards would have been deadly."  

"I made my own choice, Duke, and if they'd have killed me it would have been my fault."  

Jeremiah snorted. "I wouldn't have let them kill you, you overgrown bastard."  

Marston wasn't sure what to say. This wasn't a typical conversation between the three outlaws. Duke clicked his tongue. "We've been through a lot together, Marston."  

"Things I'm trying to forget," Marston replied. "I don't want to be that man anymore. This woman and boy see me as something different and I want to be that man for them."  

Jeremiah shook his head. "You can't just stop being what you are, Marston. You're a bastard, literally, just the same as me. We were raised to hate, raised not to care. You've done things that would keep most folks up at night but you don't feel sorry for any of it and neither do I. That's the beauty of our life. Why would you want to give that up?"  

"You're right,' Marston admitted. "I'm not sorry for my past. Being sorry wouldn't change a thing. Everything I did then, I did because I wanted to. None of that changes the fact that I don't want to be that man anymore."  

"That woman must be something special," Duke noted.  

Marston let his carefully constructed defenses down and nodded as his gaze softened. Duke worried about the man. He had learned that love rarely ended well for men like them and Marston was clearly in love.  

"She is special," Marston replied. "She's got something about her that I can't explain but ever since first laid eyes on her, I've felt different."  

Jeremiah slapped him on the back. "Well if this is what you want and the crazy makes you happy then I guess I'll be happy for you."  

"Can we meet the woman who changed the unchangeable man?" Duke asked.

Marston quickly shook his head. "No."  

"Why the hell not?" Jeremiah demanded. "You don't want her to meet her future brother-in-law and realize she picked the less handsome one?"  

"I don't want Rose to know you exist," Marston admitted. "I don't want to have to explain the man I was in the past to her."  

"You mean three weeks ago?" Duke inquired dryly.  

Marston glared. "I'm serious. Leave. Forget you followed me. Forget I exist. I'm leaving that life behind and I'm starting over. End of story."  

Marston pretended he didn't see the hurt on their faces and Duke and Jeremiah took a step back. "That's fine," Duke said after several quiet moments. "But if you need us you can send word."

"Alright then brother... I guess I have no choice but to accept what you're saying but make sure you don't stay a stranger for too long."  

Duke nodded. "Yeah and I know it's still nearly a week away but Merry Christmas."

Marston watched the men walk to the edge of the woods, mount their waiting horses and ride away.  

"Wow, Marston! You sure showed them. You gotta teach me how to punch like that!" Langley exclaimed as he came out of the barn.

Marston looked at the boy. "Langley I have to go for a walk. You stay in the barn until I get back unless your mama needs help and hollers."  

"Why do you have to go?" Langley asked.  

"I need to. And Langley, don't tell your mama those men were here."  

Langley shifted his feet. "I don't know...."

"Knowing those men were here will only cause your mama to worry and she's too sick to be worrying," Marston insisted.  

'Plus it'll bring up some questions that you'd rather not answer'

that voice chimed in.

Langley finally nodded. "Okay. I won't say anything."  

Marston ruffled his hair. "Good boy. Now go to the barn and finish up your chores."  

Marston waited until Langley was back inside the barn before heading off into the woods. He had to make sure that Duke and Jeremiah truly had left. He liked them well enough and that conversation he had had just had with them had caused him to doubt whether they would truly do Rose and Langley harm but Marston still had to do everything he could to keep the woman and boy safe.  

---

"Go wash up for bed, Langley," Rose said as she sat wrapped in a blanket beside the fire.  

Marston frowned as he sat in the armchair and sharpened his knife. Rose knew he had noticed how tense she'd been all afternoon and she wished she were better at hiding her emotions. Rose was angry and she was uneasy.

The shutters had been open today and Rose had seen their visitors. She had seen Marston's reaction to those men and she had heard every word they had said to one another. She had seen Marston whispering to Langley after they had left and then had watched Marston slip away into the woods.  

Rose wasn't sure exactly how she felt about what had transpired outside today. All she knew for sure was that she needed to talk to Marston. Rose didn't want to push the man away. She knew how scarred he was both physically and emotionally but at the same time, she couldn't allow these kinds of things to happen without at least speaking about them.  

Langley went into the water closet and once the sound of running water reached her ears, Rose turned to Marston. "We need to talk."  

Marston nodded as he slid his knife across the sharpening stone. "About what?" he asked without looking at her.  

"Those men who were here today and your reaction to them."

Marston's head snapped up and his golden eyes narrowed. "Did Langley tell you?"  

"No, he obeyed your orders," Rose snapped sharply. "And don't do that again. Don't tell my son to keep secrets from me."  

"I did that to protect you," Marston insisted.  

Rose pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and shook her head. "Langley and I have a close relationship, Marston. He trusts me and I trust him. I don't want there to be any secrets."  

Marston sighed and laid his sharpening stone on the table as he holstered his knife. "I'm sorry," he finally muttered. "I'm new to all this family business and I made a bad decision."  

Rose's eyes widened. "Family?"  

Marston cleared his throat and removed his gray hat. He tossed it on the table and stretched out his legs. "Did I overstep by saying that?" he asked without meeting her gaze.  

Rose smiled. "No, you didn't overstep. I actually like the idea."  

Relief filled his eyes as he looked at her but then he frowned. "How did you know those men were here?"  

Rose listened to the ticking of the clock for several long moments before finally licking her lips and staring into the fire. "I heard you talking to them, Marston. I heard everything."  

Marston felt his heart tighten painfully. His hands were shaking so he busied himself by grabbing a coin from his pocket and tapping it on his thigh. "What exactly did you hear?" he asked tightly.  

"All of it," Rose whispered. "It's hard to imagine you doing those things, Marston."  

Marston forced himself to meet her gaze. The fear of her rejection was strong but Marston Jacob's was no coward. "I did bad things, Rose. I told you as much. I'm a bad man, Rose."  

"You were," she admitted. "You're not any longer."  

Marston was about to reply when the water turned off in the washroom and Rose put her finger to her lips to silence him. Marston watched her as she rose to her feet and he was unable to keep his eyes from roaming over her soft full body. Rose was the single greatest temptation Marston had ever been faced with.  

Marston offered Langley a small smile as the boy stepped out of the washroom in a pair of faded red long johns. "Goodnight Marston," Langley said as he his hand over his damp red hair.  

"Goodnight kid," Marston replied. "Oh and Langley?"  

"What?" Langley asked, pausing in his bedroom door.  

"I was wrong earlier today. You shouldn't keep stuff from your mama. I never had a mama so I didn't know that rule but it's a good one."  

"Yessir," Langley agreed with a nod before walking into his room. Rose gave Marston a grateful smile before following after the boy.  

Marston sat there alone, staring into the fire and rolling that coin between his fingers. Family. The idea was foreign to him but he liked the thought. The closest he'd ever had to a real family had been Duke and Jeremiah and either one of them would sacrifice the others to save themselves.  

Marston had to wonder if he could do the family thing or if he'd only end up letting Rose and Langley down. He shoved his hand through his thick brown hair and stared up at the rough planked ceiling. He wouldn't let them down. He couldn't change what he'd done in the past or who he had been but there wasn't anything stopping him from being something different now.  

He was still staring at the ceiling when Rose returned several minutes later. She sat down on the sofa and curled her legs beneath her. "Rose I...." Marston began but Rose cut him off by raising her hand when he turned his head to look at her.  

"Let me talk, please," she whispered. Marston nodded. "I understand that the skinny man was your brother?" Again Marston nodded. "Who was the other man to you?"  

"He took me and my brother in after we left the orphanage," Marston replied.  

Rose chewed the inside of her lip. "Are they bad men?"  

"No worse than me."  

Rose's deep blue eyes narrowed as she studied him. "I heard what was said, Marston. That older man said you never enjoyed it as much as they did and I can see for myself that you aren't the man you were then any longer."  

Marston didn't want her to be fooled by her own hopes. "I'm still the same man, Rose, but I won't do the same things."  

"I have faith in you, Marston," Rose whispered, taking Marston's hand gently in her own. "But do you believe you can change?"  

Marston stared at her hand on his and nodded. "Yes. With you and with Langley I can. I was honest with you from day one about the man I was, Rose, but I would never do anything to hurt you or that boy. As a matter of fact, I'd give my life to keep you both safe. And for me, that's saying something."  

"If you want me gone, Rose, I'll go. I shouldn't have made myself at home here the way I did. You're too good a woman for a man like me..." he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor.  

Rose moved as quickly as her weak body would allow and went to him. She dropped to her knees beside his chair and he growled. "Get up.... I don't like the thought of you getting dirty on the floor."  

Rose just smiled and laid her hand on his cheek. She could see the pain and fear in his golden eyes and it touched her heart that he would show her those emotions he generally kept hidden.  

"Marston, I want you here," Rose vowed. Marston studied her eyes for any sign of doubt but found none. Instead, what he saw there left him speechless. Never had he been gazed upon by the loving eyes of a woman. "I know that you have a past and that you've done bad things but I also know deep in my heart that you are not a bad man and you will never hurt us. You left us one and it nearly did me in but I never stopped wanting you to come back. You just had to go out and find whatever it was you were looking for."  

Marston swallowed hard. "I realized once I was gone that I had left everything I wanted right here in this cabin."  

Rose lowered her gaze to his chest and removed her hand from his cheek. "I do have to ask one question."  

Marston suddenly felt cold without the contact of her skin against him. "What?"

"Is your being here going to place Langley in danger?" When Marston's eyes narrowed, Rose was quick to elaborate. "I mean from those men or others like him?"

Marston shook his head. "Duke and Jeremiah are no danger to you."  

"You sure acted like they were a danger when you were hitting and threatening to kill them just a few hours ago."  

Marston sighed. "I was only proving a point, that's all," he assured her. "And at first I wasn't quite so sure they weren't a danger but after the talk we had, I'm sure they don't mean you any harm."  

"What point were you trying to prove exactly?" Rose asked.  

Marston reached out and took a soft red curl between his fingers, unable to stand the lack of physical contact between them. "Duke seemed to think I'd gone soft and in our world soft is a weakness and a death sentence. I was proving to him that I wasn't as gone as he thought I was."  

"Do you hit all your friends, Marston?"  

"Why?" Marston asked, grinning at the sight of the dramatic frown on her face.  

"So I can be prepared to duck."  

Marston laughed lightly and then scooped her up from the floor and sat her down gently in his lap. Rose had always been a larger woman but Marston was a giant of a man and when he held her in his arms this way, she felt very close to dainty.

"You're more than just a friend," Marston assured her, burying his nose in her soft red curls and breathing her in.  

Rose stiffened as memories of men before him threatened to steal the pleasure she had had a glimpse of when first wrapped in his arms. "Don't be afraid of me, Rose," Marston pleaded softly.  

Rose's legs relaxed over the side of the chair and she found her entire body sinking into him. This was Marston. This was the man who had cared for her and for her son, who had nursed her back to health when she'd been near death.  

"I'm not afraid of you," she vowed.  

Marston smiled as he held her close. This was so different from anything Marston had ever done with any other woman—or person for that matter. This was tender and sweet. It was safe and warm. Why the devil had he ever left Rose and Langley?

Silence fell over the room as the two of them simply enjoyed the closeness and listened to the logs crackling in the fire. "What led you to that life?" Rose finally whispered.  

Marston could think of a million things he would rather talk about but he knew he wouldn't deny Rose anything she wanted. "I grew up in an orphanage," he replied. "My mama dropped Jeremiah and I off there when I was too little to remember. I have no memories of the woman but Jeremiah does and his memories make me glad I don't have any. They figure I was somewhere between the age of one and three when she set me us on that doorstep so I'm somewhere around thirty now.  

"It's still hard for me to believe that you don't know your birthday," Rose admitted. "That's terrible."  

Marston chuckled. "Out of all the things that have happened in my life, not knowing by birthday is the least of the evils."  

He ran his fingertips down her arm and Rose felt a delicious shiver run throughout her body. "It's still terrible," she insisted, trying hard to push away the feelings he stirred within her. Rose knew she wasn't ready to take that step with a man—not even Marston.  

"Well if it makes you feel any better, Jeremiah seems to think I was born sometime in the spring," Marston stated. "Anyway, the orphanage was rough. The headmaster was a cold-hearted bastard and he seemed to take pleasure in beating us over the smallest of things. As I got older I rebelled and that just led to the punishments getting worse. Whips, knives, isolation, starvation—whatever means he thought necessary to keep me in line and teach me a lesson."  

Rose shivered as she squeezed her eyes shut and fought back the images or Marston receiving that kind of treatment. She knew what those punishments felt like and Rose would not wish them on anyone.  

"What about this?" Rose asked, opening her eyes once more. She gently touched the circular scar marring his cheek. "How did you get this?"  

"There was a boy. He was younger than me and small and weak. He got sick and was real cold so I gave him my blankets. The headmaster got angry and hit me—I hit him back. The headmaster used my face as an ashtray and the boy died."

Rose snuggled closer to him, wishing she could take away the pain of his past but knowing she couldn't. "How did you meet Duke?"

Marston took her hand in his and entwined their fingers as he stared at the wall. "I was more man than boy and was bigger and meaner than anyone else at the orphanage. Jeremiah showed up one day, he'd been gone a while, and he had Duke with him. They packed me up and took me out."  

"So the orphanage taught you to be cold and Duke...?"  

"Duke taught me that caring about anyone else would only get you killed. He taught me to live for myself and no one else. Being soft would end with you shot and falling in love was for fools."  

Rose absently picked at the button on his shirt. "Sometime being a fool is awfully tempting..."  

Marston smiled. "Yes ma'am." He kissed her hair. "It is."  

They fell into silence once again and Rose sighed. "I suppose that means it's my turn now."  

"Your turn for what?" Marston asked, his voice heavy as if he'd been close to sleep.  

"Don't tell me you haven't wondered what a young woman was doing married to a man as old as Langston."  

Marston shrugged and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I wondered. I judged you pretty damn harsh for it at first. But I know you better now and I know you must have had a damn good reason."  

"I did." Rose nodded. "I don't.. I don't think I can talk about it though.. I..."

Marston heard the fear rising in her voice and he held her tighter. "Your safe now, Rose. Whatever happened in your past will never happen again. Not with me here."  

Rose stared up at him, in awe of the man he was. Marston grumbled. "Don't look at me like that. It makes me feel awkward enough when the boy does it."  

"Sorry," Rose replied with a smile. She rested her head back against his heart. "I was in a truly bad situation and would have died had Langston not come along. He felt sorry for me and he took me away from there but we were never in love... He was simply a very good friend."

"I'm guessing Langston Junior isn't Langston's blood?" Marston asked quietly, twisting a loose thread from her dress around his finger.  

"No," Rose whispered, feeling that familiar blanket of shame. "Three weeks after Langston rescued me, I realized I was with child. Do you know what that man did when I told him?" Marston shook his head. "He married me! He said the boy needed a father and he even went as far as to give Langston his name. Just after Langley was born, the law came and took Langston away from us."  

"You're a strong woman and you've been through more than your share of heartache."  

"I vowed that I would give Langley a better life. That he would never know the pain and the fear I knew..."

"Who caused you that pain, Rose? Who gave you those scars?"  

Marston cursed himself the moment those words left his mouth and he remembered he wasn't supposed to know about those scars.  

Rose scrambled from his arms and stared at him in shock. "How did you know?"  

"I stole a peek yesterday when I put you in the shower," he admitted sheepishly. Her eyes shone with tears and Marston wished that he had lied. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself and I just want you to know that..."  

"You had no right to do that, Marston. No right at all!" she snapped as she wrapped that blanket tight around her.  

Marston held up his hands. "I know but...."  

Marston wanted to get his two cents in but Rose seemed determined not to hear him. She turned on her heel and stomped for her room. Marston could hear her breathing becoming more labored and he knew her lungs must be burning from the excretion of her temper.  

"I'm tired," she hissed before stepping into her room and slamming the door.  

Marston slowly got to his feet and made his way to the closed door. He wanted to kick the damn thing in and force the woman to listen to him but he knew that would only make matters worse.  

"Rose, can you please open this door so we can talk?" he requested as calmly as he could manage. "I don't feel like having a conversation with a closed door."  

"No," Rose replied and Marston was certain that she was crying.  

His heart ached in his chest. "Come on, Rose. Open the door."  

"Just go to sleep, Marston."  

Marston threw up his hands and stormed back to the sofa. He jerked his boots from his feet and tossed them across the cabin, letting them bounce off the wall and land with a thud on the floor. He unhooked his gun belt and laid it in the armchair before flopping down on the sofa and putting his hands behind his head.  

Langley's bedroom door opened and the boy passed by him on the way to the water pitcher on the kitchen counter. He poured himself a glass and took a drink. "Has your mother always been so damn moody?" Marston growled.  

Langley shrugged. "Only since she met you," he replied before downing the rest of his water and returning to his room.  

Marston snorted. "Glad to know I bring out the best in her." Marston could swear he heard that brat of a boy laugh from behind his door.

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter

Seventeen

Rose was awake with the sunrise the next morning. She had tossed and turned the entire night and had barely slept a wink.

She was ashamed at the way she had reacted to hearing of Marston's betrayal last night. She should have discussed things with him rationally but she had been so hurt to know that she had trusted him and he had looked at her body without her consent.  

So many men had done things to her so many times even though she had begged them not to.  

Rose was embarrassed to know that Marston knew what she looked like beneath her clothes. There was nothing beautiful about scars.  

The scent of frying bacon reached her nose and Rose felt her stomach growl. Marston must already have breakfast cooking which meant he probably hadn't slept well either. Rose groaned as she got to her feet.  

She had to face him.  

Rose changed into her black wool skirt and white long necked and long sleeved blouse. The only visible skin was her face and her hands. She also pulled all her hair up tight on her head so not a single long red curl dangled down her neck. Her lungs were burning by the time she finished and so she took a moment to rest.  

Grease popped in the kitchen and Marston mumbled something just before a skillet slammed and Langley's laughter filled the air. Rose knew she needed to get out there quick before Marston hog tied the boy.  

Marston's gaze instantly fell on her as she stepped from her room. "Good morning, Rose," he greeted cautiously.  

Rose gave him a tight smile. "Good morning, Marston."  

"Well, I guess I better go out and feed the critters before I feed myself," Langley announced, clearly wanting to escape the tension in the tiny cabin.  

He stood from his chair, hugged Rose tight and then darted outside.  

"Did you hurt yourself?" Rose asked, when she saw Marston rubbing at his arm.  

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "It's just a little bacon grease."  

"Do you want some help with breakfast?"  

"No, I can take care it. You're supposed to be resting," he replied, never once looking her way.  

"If I rest much more, I'll be stuck to the sofa," she grumbled.  

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Marston's mouth. He carried three empty plates to the table before laying out a platter of eggs, bacon and homemade biscuits.  

"Where did you learn to cook like this?" Rose asked, hating the awkwardness between them.  

Marston shrugged. "When there's no one around to cook for you, you learn to do it on your own."  

Rose nodded and silence fell over the cabin.  

"Rose, I'm sorry...."  

"About last night...."  

They both spoke in unison and quickly stopped speaking. Marston held up his hand as if he were a student seeking permission to speak in class.  

"Go ahead," Rose urged before crossing her arms and chewing her bottom lip.  

Marston leaned back against the counter. "I'm sorry I looked at you...." He began but then he stopped and shook his head. "No, you know what? I'm not sorry. I'm a red blooded man and you were a naked woman so of course I looked. But looking is all that I did. What I wanted to do was make love to right there under the spray of water, but I didn't."  

"You couldn't have!" Rose quickly countered, feeling her panic rise. "I wouldn't have let you! There will never be another man to touch me against my will."  

Marston fought back the rising rage within him. He'd suspected that Rose had been taken against her will in the past but to hear it spoken with such fear and pain from her own lips, caused his blood to freeze and boil red hot all at once.  

"Rose..." Marston swallowed hard, working desperately to control his temper. "Rose, I would never, 

never, force you to do anything. You are the only person in this whole world who ever saw me as something other than a bad man. You told me you didn’t think I was all bad and I want to believe you… but then you go and say something like that and leave me to wonder if all your pretty talk is nothing but horseshit. It leaves me to wonder if you really trust me at all.“

Rose felt her heart fall at the pain she could hear in his gruff voice. He was so strong, so confident and so tough that it was easy to forget how sensitive he was—at least when it came to his newfound goodness. Rose closed the distance between them quickly and stood on her toes so she could throw her arms around his neck and hold him tight.  

"I trust you, Marston. I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry!"  

Marston was quick to throw his arms around her in return and hold her fiercely. He kissed her hair. “I’m sorry for what you went through,” he whispered against her tightly pulled back curls.

Rose pulled away and slowly smoothed out the black wool of her skirt. "I'm sorry I stormed away from you the way I did last night. That was terribly childish..."

Marston shrugged. "I understand why you did."  

"I just.. I was ashamed and embarrassed to know that you saw my scars." Rose stared at his feet, unwilling to look up at his face. "I know how ugly they are."  

Marston simply stared at her with disbelief. "You're brain addled," he stated bluntly.  

Rose rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not."  

Marston nodded. "You must be because that was the most brain addled comment I've ever heard and that's saying something seeing as how I've been around quite a few men suffering sun stroke."  

Rose nearly laughed before catching herself. "Marston, I'm serious..."  

Marston sighed and took her hands, wishing she would let her blue eyes gaze up at him. "Rose, you are a beautiful woman. I wish you could see for one second what I see when I look at you. You're soft, warm, caring, gentle—all the things that I've never known before. I feel like the luckiest man alive just to know that, for some reason, you want to keep me around."  

Rose shook her head and she tilted her head up toward him. A tear rolled down her full cheek and Marston kissed it away, causing her to gasp. "I still wish you hadn't seen them," she whispered. "I wish they were gone."

"Duke said something to me once and now I'm gonna say it to you. Don't you ever be ashamed of your scars. Each one of those damn things made you stronger and helped you become the person you are. Now, granted, the person I was back then wasn't exactly something to be proud of, but the person you are is. Look how damn strong you are and what a great kid you've raised. 

You did that, Rose.“ Marston stroked her wrist with his thumb. “If my opinion counts, I think that you are a beautiful and desirable woman.”

Rose was unable to speak as she stared up at him. What had happened to that cold callous man he'd been just a few short months before? "Are you sure there aren't two men living in that head?" she asked, remembering that he had asked her a similar question all those months ago.  

Marston smiled. "There might be," he admitted. "One for you and Langley and one for the rest of the world. Are you okay with that?"  

"I'm fine with that," Rose replied, drying her face on her shirt sleeves.  

Marston pressed a tender kiss to her brow before taking her arm and leading her to the table. "Now sit," he ordered. "You're supposed to be resting." Rose did as he commanded simply because her legs were protesting the fact that she'd been standing on them for so long.  

Marston chuckled and his voice raised. "I'll go tell sir-talks-a-lot that he can stop trying to listen through the door."  

Stifled laughter sounded from outside and Rose shook her head. "You knew he was out there?"  

Marston sat down across from her, those line around his mouth deepening as his smile grew. "The boy thinks he's slick but you've gotta get up real damn early to pull one over on Marston Jacobs."  

---

"Marston there's something we need to talk about," Rose announced the next morning after Langley had eaten his breakfast and gone outside for the day.  

Marston nodded, dried his hands on a towel and took a seat across from her at the table. "It sounds serious."  

Rose blew out a long breath. "It is."  

Marston reached across the table and took her hand. "Tell me about it and I'll fix whatever it is."  

"I'm not sure it can be fixed," Rose countered. "If it could I would have done so. Money has been a constant issue since Langston was taken away. I have had to scrimp and save just to keep food on the table and clothes on our back. I couldn't find much work since most people around here assume the worst of an outlaw's wife...I was forced to take a loan from the bank in Millerton and used the home and property as collateral."

Marston snorted as he glanced around. "This place?"

"Yes, this place. It might not be much but it's our home and now the banker who approved the loan, Winston Meade, is demanding his money in full. He's been very patient over the years but it seems his patience has run out. He'll be back any day and if I don't have his money he let me know he'll take our home from us and toss us out in the cold."  

"How much do you owe the bank?"  

"He says it's three hundred dollars once they add the interest," Rose admitted shamefully.

Marston let out a whistle. "That's a lot of money."  

"I know... I didn't know much about money or loans or interest... I feel quite foolish for accepting the terms that I did but I was uneducated and desperate."  

Marston growled. "And he took advantage."  

Marston didn't even know Winston Meade and he hated him already. Marston thought about the money in his saddlebags. He had three-hundred dollars that belonged to Langley and Rose. Not to mention all the money had had stashed away from his life of thieving and looting. It might not have been an honest way of life but it had kept his pockets lined nicely. He had enough money to keep Rose and Langley fed, warm and clothes for years to come without lifting a finger to make more.  

"Langley and I will hook up the cart and go to town. I'll send a payment to that bank and pay off what you owe."  

"Marston, I couldn't ask you to do that! I wasn't telling you so you'd pay the loan. I was telling you so you wouldn't be caught by surprise when we end up homeless."  

Marston shook his head and released his hold on her hand. "No woman of mine will ever be homeless. Don't you worry about money, I have plenty. You and Langley are my responsibility now and I'll see that you're taken care of."  

"Marston..."  

"Stop arguing." Marston got to his feet. He came around the table and stooped low to kiss the top of her head. "You don't have to be the rock solid Rose who does everything for herself any longer. You've got me now so let me help."  

Rose swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."  

Marston headed toward the door. "Do you need anything from town?"  

"No.. Marston, where did the money you're using come from?"  

Marston's jaw tightened as he turned his gaze away from her. "Does it matter?"

Rose stared down at her dirty fingernails and shook her head. "No, I don't suppose it does."  

"Glad that's settled," Marston grumbled. "You stay and rest. Langley and I will be back after awhile."  

Rose watched him shoulder his rifle and scoop up his saddlebags. Rose had tried talking him into unpacking those saddlebags but he said that would feel like he'd cut off his arm. He said he'd been packing them around for most of his life and couldn't see himself not packing them around.  

As she heard him call for Langley, Rose sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Marston. She truly had no idea what would have become of her and Langley if Marston hadn't come around when he had.

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter

Eighteen

“I don’t like that banker man,” Langley admitted as he and Marston rode down the winding road toward town.

"Why is that?" Marston asked, moving the cart around a deep puddle in the muddy road.  

Langley pulled his coat tighter to ward off the cool December air. "He says mean things to mama and she's always upset when he leaves."  

"Bankers get mad if you don't pay them their money," Marston assured the boy.  

"It's not just that, Marston," Langley insisted, a seriousness in his tone that wasn't generally there.  

"What else is there?" Marston demanded. A silence that frightened him followed Marston's question. Buck's hooves slapped in the mud, the river rushed beside them and the birds sang in the trees but Langley remained completely silent.  

"Boy, you ain't never had a problem talking so don't start having one now," Marston scolded, his voice tense with unease. "What else is there?"  

Langley picked at the knee of his trousers. "Last time he was here he told mama he'd get his payment from her one way or the other even if it wasn't money he got and he was touching her face... Mama was scared, I could tell. I don't know exactly what that means but I know she's been real worried ever since."  

Marston's clutched the reins in a white knuckled grip and his jaw popped as his teeth clenched. "And what did your mama tell him?"

Langley shrugged. "She just promised him she'd have his money and she begged him not to make us homeless." Langley met Marston's gaze, his blue eyes pleading. "You won't let him hurt mama, will you Marston?"  

Marston shook his head and patted Langley's hand. "No, kid. There ain't nobody gonna hurt your mama."  

Langley seemed satisfied with that answer and instantly his demeanor changed and he was once again bouncing around in the cart seat. "Do you know what's coming in a few days?" Langley asked.  

"No," Marston replied honestly, his mind still on that bastard banker and the way he'd been threatening Rose. "What's coming?"

Langley laughed. "Christmas! How could you not know that? Mama doesn't ever have money for a present from the store but she always make me a new sweater and I always smile real big and tell her it's the best one I've ever gotten."  

Marston felt his throat get tight. Langley was lucky to have a mother like Rose—there weren't very many like her. "You're a good kid, Langley."  

Langley sighed. "I wish I could get mama something this year. I never have been able to get her a present for Christmas."  

"You can," Marston replied. "Just pick out something at the mercantile and we'll see that she gets it."  

Langley shifted in the seat and looked up at him. "But Marston I don't have money—I can't 

steal a Christmas present!“

Marston couldn't see why that would be a rule but he didn't tell Langley so. Instead he smiled. "You do plenty of work around that house, Langley, and you've earned a bit of money."

Langley's excitement increased ten-fold and the boy launched into a rambling, longwinded dialogue about just what he was going to get for his mama. Marston simply sat there grunting in response now and then.  

His mind was on things other than Langley's conversation such as that bankers threats toward Rose and the realization that Marston had no idea what in the world to buy for the woman.  

The first stop that Marston and Langley made upon arriving in town was Doctor Brinkley's office to send a wire and money to the bank in Millerton. Doctor Brinkley insisted that Rose usually sent her payment directly to Winston Meade but Marston had refused and demanded it be sent to the bank.  

When Marston and Langley stepped into the H&H Mercantile the boy's eyes widened. "I can really get mama anything I want?"

Marston nodded as he walked to the case where the guns and ammunition were kept. "Yep. Whatever you want."  

Marston knew exactly what he was going to do for Langley for Christmas. He was going to fix up that gun of Langston's. The boy was constantly rambling on about that gun and had even shown it to him more than once. Marston had known instantly that the gun was a good one and just needed to be cleaned, oiled and worked with. He knew he could have it working good come Christmas.  

"Well, my stars! If it ain't Marston back again," Hester sneered as she came breezing in from the back office and pushed her giant spectacles up on her thin nose. Her cow eyes blinked several times as she stared up at him. "I see you finally got rid of that horrid beard."  

Marston put on his smoothest smile and leaned against the counter. "Hello there, Hester. How did I survive live without gazing upon you all these months?"

"Probably about the same way I survived without the sight of you," she sniffed. "Tell me, are you still keeping the Widow Howell company?"

"Sure am," Marston replied, refusing to let he woman's mouth get under his skin. "I would like to purchase a few items.. that is if you ladies have figured out that's how a store works."  

"Of course we do, sir," Hattie assured him, waddeling in on her stump-like legs. "Tell me, how is Rose? Are you still 

carrying her supplies ?“

‘I say we hit her right in the nose,’ that voice chimed in. ‘Or would hers be considered a snout?’

'Aren't you my conscience? Shouldn't you be telling me not to hit her?' 

Marston demanded.

‘What the hell gave you that idea? I just like to make you talk to yourself.’

Marston let out a cough to cover his chuckle and shook his head to clear his rambling thoughts. “Nice to see you again, Hattie. You’re looking well. You know my Rose is a real good seamstress. I’m sure she’d be able to let that dress out a foot or two.”

"Well I never!" Hattie exclaimed, covering her heart with a meaty hand.  

The charming grin never left Marston's face. "Now ladies if you'll be so kind..."  

"Tell me, Marston, are you going to make an honest woman out of that trollop or simply live in sin with her forever?" Hester inquired.  

Marston's patience snapped. He slammed his fist upon the counter with so much force, the dried fruit rack fell and scattered across the floor. Hester and Hattie both leapt backward and Langley gasped from across the store.  

Marston's golden eyes flashed. "Your bravery is commendable, ladies. Not many grown men have the nerve to rile me." Marston leaned closer and lowered his voice. "There's a good damn reason for that too and it's a reason you sisters are gonna learn all too well if you speak another ill word about my woman."  

"Yeah you witches need to leave my mama alone," Langley agreed.  

Hester's jaw trembled while Hattie's wobbled. "Of course," Hattie whispered politely. "We apologize. My sister and I were out of line."  

"Glad we could agree on that," Marston snarled. He turned his attention to Langley who was watching him as if he were some kind of hero. It turned Marston's stomach to be looked at in such a manner. "Aren't you supposed to be finding something for your mama?" he grumbled and Langley quickly went back to searching.  

"So, what is it we can do for you, Marston?" Hattie questioned accommodatingly.  

Marston turned back to the sisters and forced a polite smile to his own face. "That's more like it," Marston said. "That's the treatment I expect to receive when I come into a store to spend my hard earned money."  

Hester snorted. "I'm sure you earned that money at gunpoint."  

Hattie elbowed her in her bony ribs. "Hush or he's going to kill us," she whispered sharply.  

Marston raised a brow. He was fairly certain that he hadn't threatened to kill him but if these women wanted to think him capable of their murder that was fine with him. It might just cause them to hold their tongues a bit better.  

"If you ladies would be so kind as to gather up some gun oil, rags and cleaning rods for me, I'd be much obliged." Marston tipped his hat. "I've gotta find the trollop something for Christmas."  

Hattie nodded and quickly rushed off to do as he asked while Hattie stood there and stared him down. Marston simply shrugged and turned away. He had no interest in having a battle of wills with the scrawny, cow-eyed bitch of a woman.

Marston began searching the store over for something he could give to Rose. He'd never in his life given a present to anyone and he'd never in his life celebrated Christmas. What did a man buy the woman he loved?  

As far as Marston knew Rose didn't own a bit of jewelry. Wasn't every woman supposed to have jewelry? Marston's mind made up he made his way to the tiny glass case that held what small selection of jewelry the H&H mercantile had to offer.  

"We have a larger selection in the catalogue," Hattie informed him, stepping over. "You can place an order and it will arrive in two weeks."  

"Well ma'am, this is going to be a Christmas present so I don't really have the time to wait." His eyes found a necklace. The cameo was soft pink with a cream flower motif and the gold chain was delicate but strongly forged.  

It was perfect—just like his Rose.  

"Are you interested in the necklace?" Hattie asked, circling the counter and pulling a key from her pocket. Marston nodded and while Hattie went about fetching the necklace, Marston glanced behind him and saw Hester scrambling about the story attempting to pick up all the dried fruit Marston had scattered.  

Marston's first instinct was to let the damned woman pick it up herself but then he remembered that Langley was watching and he thought of what Rose would want the boy to learn. Grudgingly, Marston stooped down and helped gather up all the pieces he could find.  

Once the mess was picked up, Marston walked to the cash register. "Langley, you about done?"

The boy shook his head. "Why don't you just go on and I'll finish up and meet you outside?"

Marston frowned. "Why the devil would you want me to do that?"

Langley stuck his hands on his thin hips. "Please?"

Marston threw his hands up and turned to Hattie. "How much do I owe you for my things?"

Hattie jotted down numbers on a piece of paper. "That'll be fifteen for the necklace—" Marston whistled low but nodded. "And another fifty cents for the gun supplies."  

Martston pulled twenty-five dollars from his pocket and he could feel Hester's eyes burning holes in those paper bills as he did so. "This'll cover that, the fruit I spilled and whatever the boy chooses to get."  

Hattie nodded and put the money in the register. She wrapped the necklace in piece of soft clothes and placed it in a tiny sack before handing it and the sack of gun cleaning supplies to Marston.  

"Take your time, Langley," Marston urged as he headed for the door. "You wouldn't want to miss something and make the wrong decision."  

Langley simply nodded and Marston was chuckling as he left the store. Marston placed his new supplies in the cart and led Buck and the cart over to the blacksmith.  

The man currently pounding a horseshoe, stopped swinging his hammer and smiled welcomingly at Marston. "You've been around here before—I recognize you."  

"Yeah, I'm back," Marston replied to the man who was nearly as big as he was.  

Tray Narramore held out a dirty hand and Marston shook it. "If it wasn't for you being a brute like myself I probably never would have recognized you without that beard."  

Marston rubbed at his jaw. "It was itchy."  

Tray just chuckled and folded his arms over his chest. "So what can I do for you?"

"Buck here seemed to be favoring his left front leg on the way into town and I thought you might be able to work on his shoe."  

"Sure I can do that," Tray agreed. "I figured you for a man who did that work himself."  

Marston shrugged and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. "When I take a notion to I do. Today I'm not feeling the notion."  

Tray laughed. "Well I'm glad for that. If folks took a notion to start doing everything themselves I wouldn't make near as much money."  

"Alright then," Marston hoisted his saddlebags from the back of the cart, unwilling to leave them for long. "I'll be back in a while to pick him up."  

---

Marston was waiting on the mercantile boardwalk when Langley emerged nearly twenty minutes later with a burlap sack tossed over his shoulder.  

"Where's Buck and the cart?"  

"Bucks getting his hoof seen to," Marston replied. "He should be just about done. Did you buy the whole store?"  

Langley laughed. "No, you didn't leave me 

that much money.“

"Well did you at least get what you wanted for your mama?"  

"Sure did," Langley nodded enthusiastically. "This is gonna be the best Christmas we've had yet."  

"I'm sure your mama will like the gift ya got her," Marston assured him as he tossed his cigarette into the mud.  

"That's not the only reason it's gonna be better this year," Langley argued. "What makes it even better is that you're here now and me and mama aren't alone."  

Marston's throat tightened. "Thanks kid," he whispered, embarrassed by the hoarseness he could hear. "I've sure as hell never been the reason someone had a good Christmas before."  

Langley smiled up at him and in that moment Marston realized that he would, without a moments hesitation, do anything for that boy. He would gladly buy up everything the mercantile had to offer, cook runny eggs or even take a bullet in the heart just to see that boy cared for.  

It was a shock to his system to realize that two people meant more to him than his own life. Rose and Langley had quickly becoming all that mattered in the world—they 

were his world. Their touches, their smiles, their acceptance and their warmth had quickly destroyed walls that Marston had been constructing for three decades.

Marston put his hand on Langley's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "What do you say we get that flea bitten nag and head back to the house? Your mama is probably starting to worry."  

"More than likely she's done got the floors swept and mopped and is hoping we take a bit longer so she can scrub the walls," Langley countered.  

Marston chuckled. "Yeah, I'd say you're right."  

The two headed off for the blacksmith shop but were stopped by Doctor Brinkley calling for them as he rushed down the street. "What is doc?" Marston questioned, meeting the older man on the muddy street.  

Doctor Brinkley handed him an envelope. "The bank sent you a wire back. I saw that you were still here so I wanted to make sure you got it before you left town."  

"Thanks doc," Marston replied, wondering what the bank would have sent him back so quickly. He tipped his head. "We're gonna be on our way now."  

Marston led Langley to the blacksmith and then stood against the outside wall as he opened the envelope. He immediately realized that the three hundred dollars he'd sent to them was inside. Wit h a frown, Marston pulled out the enclosed letter.  

Marston, (you failed to provide us a last name so please excuse the informal address)

	We were surprised to receive your letter and the money for Rose Howell's account. According to our records, her account has been paid in full for nearly four years. The banker you mentioned, Winston Meade, no longer works for our establishment and we hold no responsibility for his actions if he has been taking money from Mrs. Howell. We have refused the payment and advise you to contact the authorities regarding Winston Meade's behavior. 


Sincerely, 


	Millerton Bank and Trust

Marston growled and shoved the letter back into his pocket. Authorities his ass. Winston Meade had been stealing money from Rose and Langley for over three years. He'd been taking the food out of their mouths and the clothes off their backs and threatening Rose while he did so. Marston would protect his newfound family and Winston Meade would pay for his lies and thievery—and Marston would be the one who dealt out the punishment. The man was going to live to regret his actions. Then again, maybe he wouldn't.  

---

“Mama’s gonna love that necklace you got her,” Langley said as the two rode through the woods toward the cabin. “She doesn’t have anything that pretty. I bet it’ll make her cry.”

Marston grumbled as he shook his head. “I don’t want her to cry.”

"They'll be good tears," Langley promised. "The kind that means she's really really happy."  

"What did you get her?" Marston asked.  

"Mama has always loved hummingbirds so I got her a little ceramic hummingbird that she can put on the mantle. We don't have pretty things on our mantle. Mama sold all our pretty stuff to buy food."  

Marston felt his chest ache for that woman and vowed once again that she would have everything she could possibly want for as long as he lived.  

"There was more than that in that sack of yours," Marston noted. "What else did you get?"  

"Don't worry about it!" Langley exclaimed, clutching the sack close to him.  

Marston raised a brow and snorted. "Well alright then. Apparently them damn mood swings run in the family."  

Langley just smiled

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter

Nineteen

"What took the two of you so long?" Rose asked as they pulled up to the house. "I was getting worried."  

"We had business to take care of," Langley replied, clutching his sack and disappearing quickly inside.   

"What kind of business?" Rose asked Marston but he just shrugged and removed his saddlebags from the cart.  

"Man business," he said, pressing a tender kiss to her brow as he stepped onto the porch. "You were supposed to be resting."  

"I have been," Rose promised. Marston let his gaze roam across her body. She had showered and her red hair showed evidence of that as it hung in damn curls down her back. She was wearing the blue checked dress with a lower neckline that gave him a good view of that mole on her collarbone. It was his favorite dress.  

"You look beautiful," he whispered.  

She flushed red. "Did I look that terrible before?"  

Marston laughed. "I'm not gonna dignify that question with an answer."  

Rose wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her body into his chest to hide her blush from him. "Did you send the money to the bank?"  

"Yep," Marston replied quickly.  

Rose pulled away and studied him closely. "Something's wrong," she firmly stated.  

Marston's brow rose. "What?"  

"I don't know," Rose admitted. "But something happened while you were gone—something to do with that money. What happened?"

"What makes you think something happened?"  

"Don't lie to me," Rose snapped. "I can't tell when I look at you that something is wrong."  

"How can you tell?" Marston grumbled. He had always prided himself on his ability to hide emotions and lie well.  

Rose glared up at him and put her hands on her soft hips. "I can see it in your eyes, Marston, so you might as well tell me."  

"You're the first person to ever be able to read something I want to keep hidden," Marston complained.  

Rose smiled. "That's good. You're not supposed to keep secrets from your woman. Now tell me."  

Marston stooped low and kissed her ear, causing Rose's legs to very nearly buckle. "My woman? I like the sound of that."  

Rose squirmed out of his grasp. "Stop trying to change the subject, Marston."  

He sighed and sat down in the rocking chair, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her down onto his lap. She shook her head. "You really are trusting this chair more than you should," she warned as it creaked and moaned beneath them.  

"If it breaks I'll catch you."

Rose feigned breathlessness. "

My hero … now what happened in town?“

Marston's smile quickly became a frown. "I sent your payment and a letter directly to the bank in Millerton and they sent it back. Apparently your account has been paid in full for nearly four years and Winston Meade has not worked for them for a while."  

Rose couldn't believe what she was hearing. Surely there must have been a mistake! "But I've been sending payments directly to Winston Meade! Not to mention the times that he's come here demanding money and I've given him what little I had..."

Marston nodded, anger clenching his jaw. "He's been lying to you and stealing your money.. .not to mention the threats Langley told me about."  

Rose gasped and her eyes grew wider. "Langley knows about those?"  

"He doesn't understand completely but he knows enough to know that Winston means to hurt you. He made me promise to keep you safe and that's what I intend to do."  

"Winston is due back any day," Rose replied. "What are we going to do, Marston?"   

Marston shrugged. "We let him come. How much would you say you've given him over the years?"  

Rose tried to push back her fear and think hard. "Close to... close to three hundred dollars...." Rose's fists clenched as she thought about the money she'd saved for Langley's clothes, his food, his shoes and his books all going to that banker.  

She felt anger well up inside her. "I'll go to town and send word to the marshal in Millerton. He's the closest law and he'll come handle things."  

"I'll take care of things," Marston argued firmly. Marston was accustomed to dealing with his own problems and didn't want the help of a lawman.  

"What exactly are you going to do?" Rose whispered.  

"Deal with it," came Marston's short reply.  

Rose's stomach flopped. "Marston...."  

He kissed her head. "I'm just going to deal with it, Rose, so don't worry."

Marston gently sat Rose on her feet before getting to his own feet as well. With a trembling hand, he reached in his pocket, pulled out the three hundred dollars the bank had refused and held it out to Rose.  

"What are you doing?" Rose asked. "That's your money, Marston."  

Marston shook his head and was more terrified than he could ever remember feeling before in his entire life. He'd made an impulse decision just now and he knew that he might end up regretting it until his dying day.  

"No it's not, Rose. It never was," he replied quietly.  

"Then who's is it?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she stared up at him.  

Maston swallowed hard. "It's yours."  

"I don't have three hundred dollars," she assured him.  

Marston turned his gaze out toward the barn. He knew his next words could earn him Rose's distrust and rejection and they were the hardest words he'd ever had to utter in his life. "I stole it from you and Langley. There was six hundred dollars in that bag from Langston and I kept half."  

When silence followed his emotions, he slowly snuck a peek at Rose and found her smiling from ear to ear. "What the hell is the matter with you, woman? Why are you smiling? I just admitted that I stole money from you. Money that you needed! You should be furious with me."  

The smile never left her face. "Marston I need to show you something." Rose disappeared into the house and Marston, unsure if he was meant to follow or not, stood awkwardly upon the porch.  

Rose returned a few moments later with a piece of paper which she placed in Marston's calloused hand. Marston frowned as he realized it was a letter. A letter from Langston. It was made out to Rose and it said right there in writing that he had been released from prison and was returning home with six hundred dollars.

"When did you get this?" Marston whispered.  

"Shorty after you left in September," Rose replied. She folded the letter gently and slipped it into her skirt pocket.  

"Rose.. I'm sorry..."  

Rose cut off his apology by pressing her fingers to his lips. Marston's eyes darkened at the contact and Rose trembled. "Don't you see?" she asked. "This just proves how good a man you truly are. You could have kept all the money and not brought any of it to us but you didn't. You could have spent this three hundred and never told me about it, but you didn't."  

"Don't make me out to be something I'm not, Rose," he warned. "I'm no hero."

Rose just smiled and threw her arms around his neck. "I'll see you however I choose to see you." She pulled away slowly. "Now go get Buck put up and bring in some wood. I have some chicken cut up for soup but need to get the fire going."  

Marston was grinning as he quickly went off to do her bidding. 

‘If only the men could see you now. Proud as hell because that woman thinks you’re a good man and following her orders like a little puppy.’

Marston rolled his broad shoulders. “Little?” he mumbled aloud.

‘Okay then. A really big puppy.’

---

Marston was awake an hour before dawn the next morning. It was cold when he stepped out onto the porch and his breath froze in a thick fog around his head when he exhaled. A light frost coated the land and buildings and Marston knew that when the sun began to rise it would be a beautiful sight to see.

Marston rolled out his shoulders and was stretching his aching back when a twig snapped and instantly his every sense was on high alert. His guns were inside but Marston quickly pulled his knife from its sheath.  

Another twig snapped and Marston's head snapped to the right to discover that the source of the sound was nothing but a few deer grazing at the edge of the woods. He let out his breath and holstered his knife.  

Venison would make a real nice addition to the smokehouse and Marston could use the hide to make a hat and gloves for Langley. Once he lined them with rabbit fur, Langley would have the warmest head and hands in the state.  

The deer disappeared into the trees and Marston walked back in the cabin. He went to Langley's bedroom door and quietly pushed it open. "Hey kid?" he whispered.  

Langley groaned. "What?" he mumbled from beneath the covers.  

"I saw some deer. Why don't you get dressed and come hunting with me?"

"Really?!" Langley was hopping out of the bed instantly. "Yeah! That sounds fun!"

Marston's eyes narrowed. "Quiet now," he scolded. "You'll wake your mama and she needs to rest."  

Langley' grin turned guilty. "Sorry. I've never been hunting. Is it fun? Can I shoot the deer?"

"Do you even know how to aim a big rifle?" Marston questioned.  

Langley laughed. "No, but that didn't stop me from shooting you."  

Marston grumbled under his breath but found his lips twitching as he left the boy to get dressed.  

He made his way to the sofa where his gun belt was resting. That sofa was still serving as his bed each night much to the displeasure of his back and another vital part of his anatomy. He wanted Rose more than he had ever wanted any other woman. He longed to hold her against him skin on skin and bury himself so deep in her scent he could never rid himself of it.  

But Marston wasn't going to push her. He could only hope that eventually she would trust him enough to invite him in.  

Marston was fastening on his gun belt when Langley emerged from his bedroom dressed and ready to go. Marston pulled some paper and a pencil from a drawer beside the door and jotted down a quick note to Rose letting her know they'd gone hunting.  

He checked the rifle to ensure it was loaded and smiled over at Langley. "You ready, kid?"

Langley bounced out the door. "Sure am!"  

Marston was laughing as he grabbed his coat off the hook and followed the boy outside.  

---

"Are we ever gonna see some deers? I want to see a deer."  

"What did I tell you was the first rule of hunting?" Marston grumbled as they hid among the trees beside a well-used game trail.

 "To be quiet," Langley replied, clearly proud that he'd remembered.  

Marston's gaze became pointed. "Exactly."  

Langley flashed a guilty grin and began to chew his lip. They sat there for a while longer in silence before Marston finally began to hear a rustling in the dead leaves on the forest floor.  

Langley's eyes were wide as he looked at Marston questioningly. When Marston nodded, Langley nearly leapt with excitement. Marston laid the rifle in Langley's hands and showed him how to hold it to his shoulder. The deer entered the slight clearing and Marston could feel Langley trembling with excitement as he pulled the bolt back and readied a shell. 	

"Do you see that doe? The third one back?" Marston whispered close to Langley's ear.   

"Yessir."  

"She's the one we want. Her meat will be real good."  

"Okay," Langley's voice was shaking as Marston released the gun and allowed Langley hold the weapon on his own.  

"Now, you wait until you feel like you're ready, keep the gun tight to your shoulders, put them sights right behind her shoulder and squeeze the trigger good and slow."

Marston realized that he was just as excited and nervous as the boy was. Langley licked his lips and focused on the deer. The sound of the gunshot reverberated through the early dawn air causing birds to take flight and the deer to jump.  

Marston realized that Langley had hit the doe but not lethally. Not wanting to miss out on the meat, Marston drew his revolver and fired off a shot, blowing out the doe's lungs and heart.  

"Did I do okay?" Langley asked as the deer fell dead to the ground.  

"You did real good, kid," Marston assured him. "After a few lessons you'll be as good a shot as me."  

"You're just saying that," Langley grumbled as Marston led him to the deer.  

Marston simply shrugged and took out his knife. "What are you doing?" Langley asked. "We already killed her."  

"Yeah, but now we gotta cut her guts out before we take her home. We'll leave them here and some critter will come along and have a nice meal."  

Langley nodded but when Marston slid his knife into the doe's belly and slid the blade up, he noticed that Langley paled and turned his head. "You gotta get used to seeing this, kid. Meat has to be gathered somehow and you might not always have a neighbor that'll slaughtered a cow to see you have meat."  

Langley grumbled under his breath but turned his gaze back to the deer, his skin taking on a green hue. Marston finished with his task before wiping his knife off in the grass and tossing the gutted doe over his shoulders.  

Marston felt warm blood running down the back of his shirt and he knew he'd be blood soaked by the time they returned to the cabin. He glanced down at the front of himself and realized he had the substance splattered across his front as well. He hoped Rose wasn't squeamish.  

"Let's get her home now," Marston urged. "We'll skin her and cut the meat there."

"Oh yay," Langley muttered.  

The two began the trek back to the cabin on foot. Marston glanced up at the sun and guessed the time to be about nine in the morning. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut and he couldn't help but think that something wasn't right... the sooner he got back to Rose, the better.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

When they entered the cabin's clearing, Marston glanced down at Langley as the boy rubbed at his cold-reddened nose and sniffed. The boy's eyes widened and Marston followed his gaze to see a horse hitched beside the barn.  

"That's 

his horse, Marston!“ Langely exclaimed. “That’s the banker’s horse. What if he’s in there hurting mama?”

Marston laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Calm down, Langley. How do you know that's the banker's horse?"  

"Because of those fancy golden stirrups!" Langley was near tears. "What if he's in there with mama?"  

Marston breathed deep through his nose, fighting back his own worry and rage. "Calm down. He's not in there with your mama," Marston assured him, glancing around the clearing.  

"How do you know?" Langley demanded.  

"Do you see any fresh dew tracks going up the porch steps?" Marston asked. Langley studied the steps from a distance and shook his head. "Well alright then."  

Marston studied the grass and saw the tracks in the dew. Footsteps leading around toward the back of the cabin—toward Rose's bedroom window.  

His blood began to boil.  

"Langley I want you to go to the barn and feed the horses."  

"But..."  

"Don't argue with me!" Marston snapped. Langley's blue eye widened and he took a step back. Marston took a steadying breath. "Just go tend to the horses and the stalls while I tend to the banker."  

Langley nodded and scurried off, disappearing inside the barn. Marston dropped the doe to the ground. Skinning the dear would have to wait; Marston had a banker to tend to first.  

He slipped as silent as a shadow around the back of the cabin and pulled out his knife. He stopped dead in his tracks when he came to the back of the cabin and found who he assumed was Winston Meade, peeping into Rose's window.  

The man opened up the shutters and began hoisting himself up, clearly intending to climb right in. "Can I help you?" Marston whispered, stepping in close to the banker.  

Marston grabbed Winston Meade and clamped a bloody hand over the man's mouth to keep him silent as he pulled him from the window. Marston saw that Rose was still inside sleeping peacefully.  

Marston looked down at the man who had threatened to force Rose the last time he'd been around and who was now attempting to crawl through her window. Marston stared down at the man who was going to die.  

"I see no reason to wake the lady," Marston growled. "You're probably wondering who I am," Marston mused. "Let's take a long walk down the river and I'll tell you."  

Marston continued to hold the man's arm tightly in one hand and keep him silent with the other. Marston dragged the bastard a good half a mile into the woods, following the river. He didn't stop until he came to a place where the bank was swollen and the current roaring. It would be impossible for screams to carry back to the cabin from here.  

Marston released his hold on the banker and the man instantly spun and staggered backward. Marston looked the man up and down, sizing up his quarry. Winston Meade had pale, nearly colorless gray eyes that were wide and shining with fear. His thick black eyebrows were raised high and nearly hidden beneath his heavy bangs. His body was short but it was stocky and strong and Marston assumed the man used that build to help him take advantage of women on their own.  

Marston would see to it that he never did so again.  

Winston Meade tugged on his suit jacket and glared at Marston. "Exactly do you think you are and what right do you have to manhandle me in such a manner?"  

Marston snorted. "My name is Marston Jacob's. Im the man of the house around here."  

"No." Winston shook his head. "The man of the house was Langston Howell and he is dead."  

Marston loved the way the man's face paled as he took in the sight of the blood covered Marston's clothes and hands.  

Marston shrugged. "I'm the new man of the house. Who the hell are you?"

The banker puffed up his chest. "My name is Winston Meade and I work for Millerton Bank and Trust."  

Marston scratched at his neck and picked away a bit of deer gore. "Right..." he dragged out the word slowly. "And what were you doing climbing in my woman's window?"  

Winston let out a squeak and shook his head. "I was not climbing in anyone's window!"  

Marston took his time fetching a cigarette from his pocket and moved even more slowly as he took out a book of matches and lit the tobacco. He took a long draw off the cigarette and blew his smoke directly into Winston's face. "Well you sure as hell better not tell me that you climbing 

out of it.“

Winston staggered back and coughed as the smoke assaulted his senses. "Certainly not!" He licked his lips and swallowed hard. "Mrs. Howell owes Millerton Bank and Trust a substantial amount of money and I am simply here to collect a payment."  

Marston let his cigarette hang off his lip as he pulled his large knife. He ran the blade along his palm, careful not to break the skin and he could hear Winston's knee's knocking together. "Well, that's interesting because I sent enough money directly to Millerton Bank and Trust to pay off Rose's debts and the money was sent back to me along with a note informing me that her debt is already taken care of and that you no longer work for them."  

Marston thought perhaps Winston might vomit as the man heaved. "I..uh.. that is.." It was clear the banker's brain had ceased to power his mouth.  

Marston stepped forward. "Let me tell you how this is going to work. You're going to give me every dime that you've taken from Rose over the last three years."

Winston shook his head. "I don't.. I don't have it.. but if you'll simply let me go, I can get it..."  

Marston's cold chuckle had Winston's weak pleading trailing off. Marston put his knife away and pulled out a second cigarette. He placed the rolled tobacco and paper between Winston's trembling lips and fired up a match.  

Winston's pale gray eyes eyed him warily as Marston brought the match up to the cigarette and held it to the tip.  

Once the cigarette was lit, Marston crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not letting you go anywhere, banker man."  

"Please! Please, I will get the money!" Winston pleaded, folding his hands and holding them out to Marston. Marston could taste his fear and he soaked it in, thoroughly enjoying the rush he got from it.  

As Winston stared at him with tear-filled eyes, Marston felt no guilt, no uncertainty and no doubt. This was who he was. A cold-hearted man who could torment and kill without mercy if the situation called for it.  

"That pocket watch is probably worth a pretty penny," Marston noted, tilting his head toward the chain hanging across Winston's belly.  

The man was quick to undo the chain with trembling hands and offer it to Marston who was even more quick to take it. "What do you have in your pockets?" Marston asked.  

Winston frowned before digging in each of his pockets and removing several paper bills, a few coins and a pocketknife.  

"What about your boots?" Marston added, after pocketing everything in Winston's hands.  

Winston appeared ready to run and he wrung his hands. "There's nothing in my boots, sir. I hardly see any reason why I should have to remove them."  

Marston growled and squared his shoulders. "Empty your goddamn boots, banker man."  

Winston nearly lost his balance and fell as he stood on one leg, pulled off his boot and dumped the contents onto the cold, muddy ground. A small rope, a boot knife and a gang had Marston seeing red.

"What did you plan on doing with those?" Marston snarled, his carefully placed mask of politeness falling to the wayside as rage contorted his features.  

"N..nothing.." Winston stammered. "Please.. please don't kill me..."  

Marston's knuckles popped as he strode forward another step. "Oh, you're going to die here today, banker man. I can promise you that."

Winston Meade's small eyes darted to all the trees around them and Marston smiled. "Go ahead and scream. We're miles from anywhere but the cabin and you're voice would never carry back there over all this water."  

"Please....?" Winston choked out, tears streaming down his face and his lips quivering. He took another staggering step back and nearly tumbled over the two foot drop into the rocky, raging river.   

"Please what, you sniveling sack of shit. What exactly were the gag, the knife and the rope for? Were they an insurance policy in case the lady wasn't willing to give you your payment?"

"Just let me go, please..." Winston's cigarette slipped from his fingertips and fell into the swift current below. "I'll leave, sir, and I'll never come back. I swear it."  

"You're not leaving here alive, Winston," Marston shook his head. "I know men like you. Hell, there's a part of me that is a man like you. That woman's in your blood now." Marston drew in a sharp breath between his teeth. "I understand. There's just something about her, isn't there? She's so soft and warm with all that red hair and pale skin. She's all alone out here fending for herself—what kind of man could resist that?"

Winston licked his lips and nodded, swiping at the tears on his face with the back of his hand. "Exactly. So you see my temptation?"

Marston stalked forward another step and Winston whimpered as he shrank away in fear. "Oh yes. I see your temptation. Tell me though, what would you have done if the boy had come in the room? He could have been a problem. Or is that what that gun is for?" Marston asked, tipping his head toward the .38 revolver barely visible beneath the edge of Winston's jacket.  

Winston remained silent but Marston could see the truth shining in the bastard's eyes. He hadn't planned on letting Rose or Langley live past today. Marston's hand shot out and snatched Winston's up by the throat, squeezing hard.  

He smiled when he saw the weasel's hand inching toward his gun. "Pull it," Marston snarled. "Pull it and you'll be dead before you can fully clear leather."  

The coppery scent of the deer's blood was think in the air around them and Winston gagged. "I beg of you... please, don't kill me....I give you my word.."

Winston's words were cut off when Marston squeezed tighter. "Your word doesn't mean a damn thing to me. You were going to rape my woman."  

"No..."

"You were going to kill my boy."  

"No....I..."

Marston sneered as Winston became a blubbering mess. "I won't spend my life looking over my shoulder or worrying that you'll come around every time I leave that cabin." Winston just whimpered and was clearly struggling to breathe under Marston's grip. "I hope you've made peace with your maker, banker man, cuz I'm fixin' to send you to him."  

Winston's eyes widened as Marston hauled him off his throat by his neck and threw him down into the water. His body squirmed, his legs kicked and his arms flailed as he thrashed about, trying to escape. Marston's grip never wavered as he held the man's head firmly beneath the water.  

After several long minutes, Winston stopped kicking and his body went limp. Marston held him under a bit longer just because he truly hated the bastard.  

Swiping water from his face with his free arm, Marston smiled.  

Now there was one less evil bastard breathing the same air as Rose and Langley.

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-

One

“Where is he Marston?” Langley demanded when Marston returned to the clearing.

"He's dealt with," Marston replied simply. He had dragged the bastard's body deep into the woods, stripped him of anything valuable and covered him with a bit of mud and leaves. He had no worries that the body would be found—no one ventured out that far and the critters would make short work of the remains.  

The boy nodded and leaned the rake against the outside of the barn. "Good."  

Marston went to Winston's horse and began checking the beast for any brands but found none. He could sell the horse and fetch a decent bit of money for Rose and Langley.  

Langley came closer and frowned. "But Marston, I should warn you that mama..."  

"Marston!" Rose's voice exclaimed. He turned to see the woman striding from the cabin looking fit to kill.... When she saw the blood, dirt and leaves covering him she paused. "Where have you been?"

"Hello Rose," Marston replied, feeling uneasy. He wasn't sorry that he had killed Winston but he was nervous that Rose would want him gone once she realized what he'd done. His only hope was that he would realize he'd had no choice. Men like Winston Meade could only be dealt with one way.  

"Where have you been?" she asked again, much more quietly. "Langley showed me the doe you killed but he wouldn't breathe a word about why you weren't here. I'm smart enough to know that's Winston Meade's horse."  

"It's a nice horse," Marston acknowledged, running a hand over the creature's neck.  

"Marston, where is Winston?" Rose questioned cautiously.  

Marston went about removing the gaudy saddle and tackle from the horse. "Dealt with," he replied, never glancing her way.  

He could feel her blue eyes staring hard at him. "Can we talk inside?" she asked.  

Marston nodded. "Just let me see to this horse and I'll be in."  

Marston heard her footsteps disappear back into the cabin. He let out a long breath and just hoped that Rose would love him more than she feared him.  

---

Rose was sitting at the table sipping on a cup of tea when Marston came in a short time later. She took in the sight of him—a sight that should terrify her.

He was nearly seven feet of solid muscle all wrapped up in dirt and bloodstained clothes. His sharply angled face was rough with a few days worth of stubble and lined with dirt. Golden eyes watched her closely and in them, Rose saw no regret and no remorse even though she was certain he had just killed a man.  

"What happened?" she asked, unsure if she truly wanted the answer.  

Marston crossed the cabin and sat down on the other side of the table. "He's been dealt with."

"Marston.. did you kill him?" she asked, staring down into her tea to avoid his gaze.  

Marston reached across the table to take her hand but Rose jerked away from him. When she glanced at his face it appeared as if someone had just kicked him in the gut. "Are you sacred of me now, Rose?"

Rose shook her head and wrung her hands in her lap. "I'm not afraid of you.. it's just.. you just 

killed a man.“

He pulled his hat from his head and rammed his hand through his hair. "That's right I did."

Rose picked at her skirt. "How could you do that?" she whispered, still unable to meet and hold his gaze.  

Marston shoved his chair back and stood. He pulled his hat from his head and tossed it to the floor. “I wasn’t hard,” he snapped. “He’s not the first man I’ve killed and he may not be the last—you knew who I was before now.”

“Yes, but…”

“But nothing!” Marston snarled, causing Rose to sink deeper into her chair. “He was climbing in your window while you slept when I found him. He had a knife and a rope for you and a gun for Langley. He was going to kill you both! That bastard got what he deserved.”

Rose's eyes rose to his face as her heart slammed to a stop in her chest. "He was sneaking in...?" she whispered. Past memories overloaded her senses and she closed her eyes tight against them. "You should have turned him over to the authorities, Marston. Killing people is never the answer."  

"It's my answer," Marston growled. "Do you want me gone?" his voice was tight.  

Rose didn't answer as she kept her head lowered and her eyes closed. She heard Marston make a noise as if he were choking and then his boots moved across the floor. "Just let me get cleaned up and then I'll go and you'll never have to see my murdering face again. I warned you about the man I was but you're no different from hundreds of other lying women. You claimed to accept me, claimed to care, took advantage of everything I could do for you and now you're tossing me out because I didn't save you and your son's using the damn method you felt would have been best... damn you, Rose."  

When the door to the water closet slammed closed, Rose buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Marston's words had ripped her heart out. She loved that man—she shouldn't. If she had any good sense she wouldn't want to spend her life with a man who could kill so easily and not bat an eye. But Marston was the man she wanted.  

And of course he had killed Winston. Most men would have killed any man that they'd seen sneaking into their woman's bedroom window with every intention of raping her.... Rose nearly vomited. Three years that banker had been toying with her and if not for Marston, both Rose and Langley would now be dead.  

Rose was ashamed that she had sat at this table and let him feel as if she didn't want him. Marston had done 

everything for them. He was what Rose wanted forever. She had to make him see that. Rose couldn’t let him leave thinking that she had changed her mind.

Rose had practically spit in the man's face after he'd been forced to do something terrible to protect her and her son. She only prayed that could forgive her. Apologizing could not wait....

---

Marston stood under the cold spray of water with his hands braced against the wall and his head down.  

He found it hard to breathe and hard to focus on anything other than the fact that Rose wouldn't even look at him in that kitchen. He had thought that she loved him enough to see that what he'd done had been what he'd had to do. It had been a justifiable killing and nothing less than that. Marston wasn't sorry he had done it—if he hadn't killed Winston the man could have come back anytime to finish what he'd started.  

How in the hell could Marston simply walk away from this place? How could he leave that woman and that boy? He loved Rose with everything he had and Langley—hell Langley was the son he'd never had. He couldn't live without them and yet he had no choice. Rose didn't want him here any longer. Jeremiah had been right. It was impossible to change who you were and Marston had been a fool to try.  

The water closet door opened and closed behind him and without looking, Marston knew it was Rose. Somehow he managed to look over at her and he found her standing there simply staring at him.  

Her gaze roamed across his body and Marston felt himself harden. Marston was frozen in place, unable to move, as Rose grabbed a clean wash rag from the cabinet and walked toward him. Rose held that rag beneath the water, her body mere inches from Marston's and Marston couldn't take his eyes off her soft, full face as she lathered the rag up with soap.  

Fire shot through him when Rose laid one delicate hand on his arm and held the washrag in the other hand, rubbing it across his skin and cleansing the remaining dirt and blood away.  

Marston had never in his life felt a desire like the one that was currently building in his blood and he could see it mirrored as Rose's eyes looked up into his. But Marston knew that now as not the time to act on that desire and so he used a substantial amount of his self-control to keep from push her against the wall and take her right there.  

He stood very still and simply allowed her to wash the dirt from his body. He watched her as her little hands learned and explored nearly every inch of his body. Marston bit his tongue so roughly he tasted blood.  

Her touch was doing more than just cleansing him. Rose was letting him know without words that she was standing beside him—that she accepted what he'd done and who he was. The contact between them was sealing their bond in a more intimate and permanent way than even a night of lovemaking could have.  

Rose's dress was damp and her wet curls were sticking to her face when she finished her task and sat the rag aside. Their eyes locked. Blue and gold lost in one another and the power they both held.  

"Rose? Please don't make me leave," Marston pleaded, his voice hollow. "I need you..."  

Rose's soft hand came to rest on his cheek and Marston leaned into it shamelessly. "I need you too, Marston. You can't leave me."  

Marston stepped away from the flow of water and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her damp hair. "You're all that stands between me and the devil. I can't live without you and that boy."  

Rose buried her hands in his thick, wet hair as she clung to him. "I love you, Marston."  

Marston shook his head. "That's not a strong enough word."  

Marston felt her stiffen slightly as she pulled away. He looked down into her blue eyes questioningly and was shocked when she suddenly rose up on her toes and pressed her soft lips to his.  

Passion flared to life inside Marston. He burned and ached with the want he felt for this woman. She was what he wanted. She was his forever. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, taste her and completely cover himself in her scent.  

Then Langley's boot steps sounded out in the cabin. Rose groaned and pulled away from him. "No more killing, okay?" she pleaded, staring up into his eyes.  

Marston shook his head. "I won't promise you that. I'd do anything to keep you and Langley safe."  

Rose sighed but he could read the acceptance in her eye. Marston pressed another tender kiss to her lips just before Langley called out for her.  

Marston growled. "Sometimes having kids is a pain in the ass."  

"Yes," Rose acknowledged. "But sometimes it's the best thing in the world."  

Marston had to agree.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-T

wo

Marston sat alone before the fire that night. Rose and Langley had long since gone to bed but Marston was staying up to work on getting Langley’s gun ready for Christmas.

He sighed as he shifted on the sofa. He had hoped that after what had transpired between him and Rose in the washroom that tonight would be the night he could stop calling the sofa bed. He knew enough about Rose's past to understand her fear of lovemaking but, hell, he would settle for a night of simply holding her in his arms while they slept.  

The torture of having her so close and yet being unable to touch her was slowly driving him insane.

‘You were already insane.’

Marston grumbled under his breath at the goading of the voice in his head and held the revolver up against the light so he could look down the inside of the barrel. He’d been working on it for two nights and already had the thing as close to new as it would ever be—it looked damn good in his opinion. He hoped Langley would be as excited as he was when he saw it.

Rose's bedroom door opened and he heard her step out. Marston's first thought went to her nightmare but her foot step were wrong for that. She didn't into the kitchen, instead she came out to the sofa and took a seat.  

Marston offered her a smile. "Can't sleep?"

Rose shook her head and pointed at the revolver in his hands. "Where did you get that? Isn't yours bigger?"  

Marston couldn't help but wiggle his brows. "Mine is bigger than most." He saw her flush red in the firelight and he laughed softly. "This is Langley's gun."

Disbelief filled her feature. "The one that Langston wanted him to have?" she demanded. "How on earth did you get it to look so nice?"  

"I've just been giving it a real good cleaning," he replied with a shrug. "I'm gonna sneak off in the morning and try to shoot it."  

"Try?" Rose asked, taking the revolver in her hands and running her hand over the cold, hard iron.  

"Yeah. I'm not entirely sure it won't blow up the first time somebody tries to shoot it and I'd rather lose my hand than have Langley lose his."  

Rose all but threw the gun back at him as her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "I'd rather that neither of you lost a hand!"  

Marston chuckled as he laid his hand on her soft red curls which were hanging loose around her face. "Don't worry, Rose. I can use my left hand just as good as my right so losing one won't make much difference."  

Rose rolled her eyes even as she leaned into his touch. "Why don't I feel comforted?"

Marston slid Langley's revolver back into his saddlebag before patting his leg. "Get over here," he ordered.  

Rose was quick to obey, loving how safe and secure she always felt with his arms around her. It amazed her that his big arms, with such death and power in them were as gentle as cotton when they touched her skin.  

Rose trembled as she remembered the sight of him standing beneath that water. His body was all golden skin, littered with scars and hard with muscle and power. Rose's blood began to heat just thinking about earlier in the day.  

"Do you want to hear something crazy?" Marston asked as he entwined their fingers and raised her hand to his mouth to brush a kiss across it.  

"Sure," Rose whispered as a warmth spread from the top of her head down to her toes.  

"I.. I feel like Langley is my boy. I certainly ain't what most would want in a pa but..."  

"Marston, you've been great with Langley!" Rose insisted.  

Marston's brow rose. "Are you forgetting that I made the kid hold nails in his mouth so he couldn't talk?"

"I used to make him molasses and wax gum so he'd be too busy chewing to talk," Rose admitted.  

She felt Marston's chest tremble with laughter. "He 

is a talker.“

"He loves you, Marston," Rose assured him as she held their hands up toward the firelight and studied the differences. Rose's hands were rougher than many women's because of the work she did but they somehow seemed as soft as silk against Marston's. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the gold of Marston's.  

Marston sighed. "The feeling is mutual. But, he already has a pa."

Rose lifted her head from his chest and looked into his eyes. "No, he doesn't. He has stories of a pa that he never knew. You are the first and only man to do the things a pa would do with him. You've taught him how to chop trees, hunt, work on horses hooves, aim a gun and now you're even fixing his revolver for him."  

"Those things don't add up to much when I think about what y'all have done for me." Rose smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. "I wonder what it would feel like to be called pa."  

"You should talk to Langley," Rose urged.  

Marston shook his head. "No, I don't wanna turn myself into something I'm not. I'm not his pa and I don't want to push him."  

Rose yawned as she snuggled against him. Marston kissed her hair. "You need to get some sleep, Rose."  

She nodded and stood slowly. The firelight shone through her thin white sleeping gown. Marston was unable to take his eyes off the shadow of her body. His fists were clenched tightly on his thighs as he fought the urge to pull her down onto the sofa and ravage her soft body.  

"Marston?" The fear in Rose's voice broke through Marston's fantasies. He frowned up at her and saw the way her jaw tightened with determination.  

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I..." Rose let out a slow breath and her gaze went to the ceiling a moment before returning to him. "I want you to come to bed with me."  

Marston's eyes widened. He was afraid to believe that she had truly just spoken the words he was nearly certain he had heard. "You want me to sleep in your bed?"  

Rose nibbled her bottom lip. "Our bed?" she offered.  

Marston got slowly to his feet as a smile tugged his lips. "Our bed sounds damn nice to me."  

He pulled Rose into his arms, smoothed her red curls from her face and swooped down on her, devouring her lips with every ounce of hungry need he'd been fighting for so long.  

Marston held her tighter as she moaned against his mouth and he deepened the kiss, tasting her sweetness and drinking her in. His blood caught fire and he knew she was feeling the intensity just as strongly by the way her hands gripped the back of his shirt and her knees gave out beneath her.  

"I have wanted you for so long," Marston gasped, pulling away and moving his hungry lips to her neck.  

Rose stiffened and Marston sensed the change in her—he could feel her fear. He pulled away and looked down into her wide blue eyes. "Rose?"  

"I'm scared.." she whispered, tears shining up at him. "I have never made love... it was always.. before the men simply..." Rose swallowed hard as one of those tears slipped silently down her cheek. "It hurt."  

Marston felt that all too familiar rage bubbling up within him but he forced it back down. His woman needed tenderness and, by God, that's what he was going to give her.  

Marston cupped her soft cheek with his calloused hand and smoothed away her tear with his thumb. "You never have to be afraid with me, Rose. I would never hurt you. Not for anything this world has to offer."  

"I want you to show me, Marston. Show me what it feels like to lay with a man who loves me..."  

Marston nodded before bending low and scooping her up, cradling her against his body just as he had the day he'd helped her to the shower. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes glowing with the depth of her trust and love.  

Marston felt that raging inferno in his blood become a burning ember which Marston knew would burn long into the night. Slowly, gently, tenderly he would make love to her until all those men in the past who had hurt her were little more than distant memories she couldn't fully recall.  

"I can do that for you, love," Marston assured her, laying a gentle kiss to her hair. "Because I am that man."  

He carried her into what she now said was their bedroom and closed the door silently behind them.  

---

"Where are you going?" Rose whimpered.  

Marston thought the way her brow wrinkled when she whined was pretty darn adorable. "How did you know I was going anywhere?"  

Her eyes were still closed but the grip her arm had around his body tightened. "I felt your body tense up," she replied. "I was thinking we could just stay like this all day."  

Marston felt his body get hard at the mere thought of spending the entire day wrapped up in nothing but sheets and Rose's arms. Hell, he felt as if he were ten feet tall and bulletproof knowing that she had trusted him to make love to her all through the night and still seemed eager for more this morning.  

"Rose, your body needs a break, I'm sure. According to the doc you're supposed to be resting and you sure didn't do any resting last night."  

Rose's eyes opened as her cheeks reddened. "I am sore..." she admitted. Then she smiled. "But it is certainly a sore I could get used to."  

Marston chuckled as he kissed her head. She glanced out the window and frowned when she saw that it was barely dawn. "Where are you going so early?"  

"Christmas is tomorrow."  

Her frown deepened. "So?"  

"I've always wondered what it would be like to eat a fresh baked turkey on Christmas," Marston admitted as he breathed in the scent of jasmine on her hair.  

"And?" she urged.  

"

And , I’m going to go hunt for one.“

Rose ran her fingertips across the hard plane of his stomach, causing him to trembled shamelessly beneath her touch. "Are you going to take Langley?" she asked.  

Marston shook his head, grabbing her hand and pulling it to his mouth. "Not today. I want to test out that gun while I'm gone."  

Marston dropped one last lingering kiss to her soft lips before rising and slipping into his clothes. Marston could feel her eyes on him as he buttoned his trousers. "You better stop looking at me like that, woman, or I won't leave this room."  

Rose smiled. "That would be fine with me."  

Marston was chuckling as he finished pulling on his clothes and boots. He stooped low and kissed her tousled hair, taking a moment to simply admire her before standing straight one again. She was beautiful. Wild red curls, kiss reddened lips, cheeks lined from the pillows and eyes heavy with fatigue from their night of little sleep. His gaze dropped to her freckled shoulders and then lower to the sheet wrapped around her chest—a chest that was covered in scars as well.

The scars there were different and Marston suspected someone had carved on her with a knife. He would be sure to find out who someday and return the favor.  

"You better go, Marston," Rose warned. "Or I won't let you leave the room," her voice was full of promise.  

With a groan, Marston forced his boots to carry him to the door. "Get some more rest, love. I'll be home in a few hours."  

Quickly he left the room and closed the door on the very tempting picture she painted.  

---

Rose had been floating all morning. She hummed and twirled as she bustled about the kitchen cooking breakfast and readying bread dough for supper.  

Langley had been staring at her as if she'd lost her mind as he sat at the table eating his breakfast but Rose simply couldn't be her usual subdued self. She was the absolute happiest that she had ever been in her life. Marston was hers and she was his—and he loved her son as if he were his own. What more could a woman ask for?

"Mama, you feeling okay?" Langley finally asked when Rose spun and placed the flour jar back in its place with a flourish.  

"Perfect Langley. I am absolutely perfect," she replied with a smile.  

He tilted his head, shrugged and then smiled back at her before diving back into his oatmeal.  

A knock sounded at the door and Rose motioned for Langley to stay put when he made a move to rise. "I'll get it. You finish your breakfast so you can see to your chores," she urged.  

Wiping her hand on her apron, Rose made her way to the door. "Who is it?" she called.  

When no one answered, Rose frowned. Had they been hearing things? She glanced out the peephole but saw no one.  

"Mama, be careful," Langley warned, getting to his feet.  

Rose nodded and lifted her rifle into her hands. It had probably simply been a critter of some kind knocking something over on the porch and there was probably nothing to worry about—but Rose would rather be safe than sorry.  

Rose opened the door slowly and clutched the rifle tighter when two men slipped from either side and came to stand in front of her. Rose nearly cursed when she realized who they were.  

"Hello ma'am," Duke greeted. "I see that Marston isn't here. Can we come in?"  

Rose raised the rifle. "Marston didn't want you here," she countered. "I'm sure he had good reason."  

Faster than Rose could react, Jeremiah reached out and snatched the rifle from her hands. "Don't shoot us," he pleaded with a grin and a wink. "You really should just let us in."  

Rose was powerless to stop them when they shoved her back and stepped right inside. "That was simple enough, wasn't it?" Duke asked with a smile. The sound of him locking the door echoed throughout the tiny cabin.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-

Three

Marston was damn proud of himself as he rode toward home with a turkey tied to the saddle and bouncing against his leg. He had a soft, warm woman he was going home to, he had a boy he loved like a son, the revolver had worked perfectly and there'd be turkey for Christmas dinner. Life was damned good.  

Whistling a tune and feeling more lighthearted than he had ever felt before, Marston rode into the clearing and pulled Buck to an immediate halt. The whistle died on his lips. Dread lodged in his gut and rage burned in his blood.  

He would recognize Duke's appaloosa gelding anywhere and he knew his brother's black saddlebags when he saw them.  

Marston's mind immediately went back to the tired blond and what the gang had done to her. He leapt from Buck and his long legs ate up the ground as he thundered onto the porch and tried the door.  

A roar flew from his lips when Marston realized it was locked. He took a step back and kicked the door with all his might, sending it flying open with a splintering of wood.  

Marston charged into the cabin with his gun drawn and instantly settled them on Jeremiah's chest where the man sat at the kitchen table eating a steaming bowl of soup.  

Jeremiah didn't falter as he stuck a spoonful in his mouth and smiled. "Good morning, little brother."  

"How are you?" Duke's voice called from the sofa.  

"What the hell are you doing here and where's my woman and boy?" Marston snarled.  

"Marston?" Rose gasped as she came out of the bedroom with a dress draped over her arm and her sewing bag in her hand. "Marston, put that gun away! Did you break the door?"  

Marston was dumbfounded. His gun wavered a bit but didn't leave Jeremiah's chest. "Where's Langley?" he asked.  

"I'm right here," Langley replied, stepping out of his room with one of his many storybooks clutched in his hand.  

Relief washed over Marston. Rose and Langley were fine—but what were Duke and Jeremiah doing here? He glanced back at the broken door when cool air blew against the back of his neck and then turned his attention back to Jeremiah as he put his gun away.  

"What the devil are you two doing here?"  

Rose stepped forward and got to her toes while he stooped to allow her to press a tender kiss to his cheek. "They came to help," she replied, smiling brightly. "Did you get a turkey?"

Marston slipped his arm around Rose's soft waist and pulled her against his hip. "Yes, I got a turkey. What are they here to help with?"

Before Rose could answer a loud slurp came from the table and Jeremiah smacked the table top. "No damn wonder you wanted to settle down with this one! If I met a woman who could cook up soup like this I might even let myself catch the crazy. We'll have to come visit more often."  

"You're not supposed to visit at all," Marston growled. "What part of that didn't you understand?"

"You oughta be damned thankful we stopped by," Jeremiah grumbled. "We found your woman and boy all alone and so we let ourselves in and kept them safe until you got back."  

Marston's brow raised. "Safe from what? You had better hope neither of you did anything to them."  

Rose let out an exasperated breath. "Oh for goodness sakes, Marston!" She swatted his chest. "They've been the nicest guests I could ask for. They heard in certain circles a few things about Winston Meade and knew he was heading this way with trouble on his mind."

"Little did we know the man had already shown up and been dealt with," Jeremiah noted. "It's good to know the Marston we know and love is still living beneath that new family man exterior."  

Marston had to let this news digest a moment. He raised his hat an inch and scratched at his temple. He turned his attention to Duke. "You came to help me?" When Duke simply nodded, Marston shook his head. "What happened to not risking your hide for anyone else?"

Duke snorted. "Our hide wasn't in danger from some slick talking banker man," he assured her Marston. "Your woman and boys were though and we didn't want to see anything bad happen to them."  

"Oh..." Marston rubbed at his jaw without knowing what to say. Duke and Jeremiah riding in on a rescue mission for a woman and child made no sense... it sure as hell was out of character for the men who claimed to care about no one.  

"You've been like kin to me for a while, Marston, and that makes that woman and boy kin as well. I ain't never had real kin but I've heard they look out for one another."  

Marston glanced over at the table where Langley and Jeremiah were sitting. Langley had his nose buried in his book and Jeremiah was watching the interaction between Marston and Duke closely.  

"How long are you both staying?" Marston asked Duke.  

Before Duke could reply, Rose was speaking. "At least until after tomorrow. I invited them to stay for Christmas."  

Marston was certain the damned woman had lost her mind. He gently took her arm and pulled her through the broken door and out onto the porch. "What's the matter with you, woman? You do realize what kinds of men those are, don't you?"

Rose nodded as she plucked a dead leaf from his shirt and released it into the wind. "Yes. They're the kinds of men who ride hard just to get here and protect your woman and boy. They care about you."

"No they don't," Marston snapped. Caring was weakness. Hell, Duke had helped harden that idea in his head!

Rose rolled her eyes. "Honestly, what is it about men and sharing feelings? Those men care about you regardless of whatever has happened in the past. Maybe they're changing just the same as you have."  

"I doubt that," Marston grumbled.  

"Well they do," Rose's jaw jutted out stubbornly as she stared hard up at him. "And they're staying until after Christmas."  

Marston was a smart enough man to know when to fold his cards. He heaved out a sigh and pulled her into his arms, rubbing his hands on her back to help her ward off the chill. "Fine, but they're sleeping in the barn. Jeremiah snores louder than a steam engine and Duke talks in his sleep."  

Rose laughed lightly against his chest. "Whatever you say." She pulled away and stepped back into the cabin. "You men need to fix the door before it gets any colder," stated. "And then you can fill up the wood boxes while I get that turkey plucked and ready for cooking tomorrow."  

Jeremiah and Duke both jumped to their feet. "Yes'm," they spoke in unison.  

Marston's shoulder slumped as his jaw hit the floor. "Since when do you two follow orders?"

Duke chuckled. "Well the way I got it figured is she's your woman so if I piss her off, I've pissed you off and you are one big mean man that don't want to have pissed off at me. Not only that, but she must be tougher than she looks if she strong-armed you into settling down."  

"But I didn't.... " Rose began.  

Marston shook his head. "It's good that you've got it figured right." He felt Rose's glare on him and his lips curved with a smile. "Most of it anyhow."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-F

our

Morning dawned bright and cold with a heavy frost and a dusting of snow. Marston was exhausted. He hadn't slept much that night—he'd been too busy listening for any sign that Duke and Jeremiah were up to no good. 	Rose kept telling him to simply have faith in them and the ability of people to change but Marston was having a hard time embracing that way of thinking. Hell, he knew the kinds of things of things that Jeremiah and Duke were capable of because he was capable of many of the same things.  

He had heard them ride off in the middle of the night and had wondered just how disappointed Langley and Rose would be that their Christmas guests had run away. He'd convinced himself that it was probably for the best and then they'd come riding back in after several hours away. Marston had no idea where they'd gone but he planned on finding out.  

"Merry Christmas," Rose's sleepy voice greeted, her warm breath teasing his chest.  

Marston breathed in her scent. "Merry Christmas."

She groaned as she pulled away. "I need to get up. I have to get that turkey baking. I made fresh sweet bread and apple pies yesterday as well as some sugar cookies and I've had beans cooking over the fire all night."  

Marston breathed deep and his mouth watered. "I know. I can smell them." He kissed her tenderly. "You're planning a meal fit for a king, aren't ya?"

"Sure am," she winked.  

Marston chuckled as he sat up and tossed his legs over the edge of the bed. "The only thing I'm king of is king of the demons."  

Rose's eyes went skyward. "I'm fairly certain that's Satan."

Marston grinned as he scooped his pants up off the floor. "Exactly."  

He heard Rose take a deep breath, no doubt preparing to scold him, when he was saved by Langley's voice ringing out through the cabin. "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"  

Marston was impressed by the volume the kid could achieve. The cabin door opened. "MERRY CHRISTMAS DUKE AND JEREMIAH!"

Marston shook his head. Duke and Jeremiah never had been known to be early risers and he could already see their annoyed faces in his mind at being awoken so close to dawn. Knowing they'd be irritated made Marston smile on the inside.  

Marston helped Rose dress quickly and the two of them stepped out into the kitchen just as Duke and Jeremiah stumbled into the cabin looking more dead than alive.  

"Merry Christmas!" Marston greeted brightly, earning him a wince and a glare. "Santa's little helpers look tired this morning. Did they have too much fun last night?"  

Jeremiah's elbow landed in Marston's gut. "Not all of us live like old married men," Jeremiah grumbled.  

Marston rubbed at sore middle and killed his brother three times in his head. "You're a pain in the ass."  

Langley broke between the adults. "Can we open presents now?" he asked, bouncing up and down with excitement.  

Rose shook her head. "Chores first."  

"Mama...." Langley began with a whine.  

Marston cut him off. "Don't you argue with your mama, boy. Those critters out there don't know that it's Christmas. All they know is their stomachs are growling and you ain't feeding 'em. I'll take care of the horses and chickens. You get dressed and tend to the pigs and cow."

Langley's shoulders slumped with defeat, he muttered a pitiful 'yessir' and shuffled back to his room.  

Duke chuckled. "You all run a tight ship around here."  

Marston looked at the older man and he saw the way he was staring at Rose in her white blouse and black skirt. Her hair was still loose and wild curls danced around her face. Marston felt a jolt of something unfamiliar that made his stomach roll and his fists clench. He realized with annoyance that it was jealousy.  

Shouldering his way past Duke, Marston headed for the door. "Let's go," he ordered, motioning for Duke and Jeremiah to follow.  

"Go where?" Jeremiah asked with a frown, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  

"Out to work."

Jeremiah scoffed. "We're your guests. You'd make us work?"  

Marston glared at Duke who had yet to take his eyes off Rose as she donned her apron and began gathering up supplies for the meal she had planned.  

Marston grabbed the man by the back of the shirt and tugged. Hard. "Outside, now," he snarled.  

"What the hell is your problem?!" Duke bellowed as Marston tossed him off the porch and the man had to grab hold of the banister to keep from hitting the dirt.  

The commotion had Rose throwing open the kitchen shutters and sticking her head out just in time to see Marston's fist connect with Duke's jaw.  

"Stop it!" Rose exclaimed. "Dear Lord, do you men hit each other every time you're together? It's Christmas!"  

Marston simply stood over Duke who was flat on his back in the dirt. Jeremiah was laughing as Marston grabbed the collar of Duke's shirt and lifted him several inches from the ground. "You 

ever look at my woman that way again, I’ll break your damn jaw. If you even think about laying hands on her, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?“

"Damnation, Marston," Duke grumbled. "I was just looking is all. She's a pretty woman."  

"I know who you are and what you do," Marston growled. "I need to make sure you know right now that Rose is off limits."  

"You got a lot of nerve talking to me that way," Duke warned, his hand inching toward his gun. Then he sighed and dropped his hand to the ground. "But okay."  

"It was nothing personal, Duke," Marston assured the older man as he helped him to his feet. "I suppose I'm a bit overprotective."

Jeremiah continued to laugh as Duke swatted dirt from his pants. Rose called Marston to the window. He went to her and folded his arms on the window sill. "What is it?" he asked.  

"You do realize that you're fighting with people on Christmas, don't you?"  

Marston grinned and kissed her nose. "We weren't fighting."  

Rose's eyes widened and she pointed at Duke who was wiping blood from his lip. "Then what would you call what just happened?" she demanded.  

Marston simply shrugged. "I was proving a point."  

"No, it was called marking his territory," Jeremiah cut in. "Don't let him fool you, Rose. The man might as well have gone and peed on your leg."  

Marston glared at his brother as Langley stepped out onto the porch. "Who peed on mama?"

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Okay, now can we open presents?” Langley exclaimed as he flopped himself onto the sofa after completing his chores.

Rose couldn't help but notice that Duke sat at the far end of the living room, as far from Rose's seat at the kitchen table as he could get. She had to wonder if his distance was because of the confrontation between himself and Marston—she rolled her eyes as she slid her knife through the skin of the potato she was peeling.  

"Alright, I reckon we can open them now," Marston agreed. "Come on, Rose," he added. "You're supposed to be taking it easy. I'll peal the potatoes after we're done with gifts."  

Jeremiah batted his lashes and laid his hand over his heart. "Aww, have you ever peeled potatoes in your life?"  

"He sure has!" Langley was quick to respond as he hopped to his feet. "He peeled some for me the first day I met him and he cooked us dinner. He even used the big old knife!" he added before running into his room.  

Jeremiah shivered. "Yeah, I know all about that knife. I've been on the sharp end of it a few times."  

Rose's eyes widened as she walked to the back of the sofa and laid her hand on Marston's shoulder. "You've stabbed your brother?"  

Langley positioned himself on the sofa next to Marston with a burlap sack from his room clutched tight in his hands. Jeremiah nodded toward Rose. "That's not the half of it!" he assured her. "He's shot me, stabbed me, left me for dead in the desert, sent a posse in my direction so they wouldn't be going in his and has stolen my horses over and over. That's a real winner of a man you got there, Rose."  

Rose glanced down at her man who was simply sitting on the sofa with a bored expression, his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms crossed over his chest. "Marston, did you truly do all that to your own brother?" Rose asked.  

Marston grunted. "First off, he's annoying so he deserved to be shot and stabbed and he's shot and stabbed me plenty of times as well. Second, I didn't leave him for 

dead in the desert, I just left him. Third, ask him who sent that damn posse after me in the first place and fourth, damn near every horse he’s ever had he’s stolen from me.“

Rose attempted to wrap her head around that mixed up relationship but was unable to. "That make me very thankful that I don't have any brothers or sisters," she admitted. Langley and Duke were quick to nod in agreement.  

Duke stood from his chair. "Come on, Jeremiah. It's present time and our gifts for these fine folks are outside."  

Marston frowned at the duo's retreating backs. "I'll be right back."  Without further explanation, he followed them out the door. As Duke and Jeremiah stepped out of the barn with a burlap sack, Marston's frown deepened. "Where exactly did the two of you go last night?"  

"How the hell do you know we went anywhere?" Jeremiah demanded.  

Duke chuckled. "The bastard can hear a gnat take a shit from a hundred yards."

"So what's in the bag?" Marston pressed.  

Duke held it up higher. "Presents for Christmas."

Marston scratched at his jaw. "You're saying you went out in the night on Christmas Eve and stole presents for Christmas?"  

"Maybe we bought 'em," Jeremiah countered, the grin on his face making it clear that was not the case.  

Marston shook his head. "There's a special place in hell for people like you."  

"We stole our presents and you bought your presents with stolen money." Duke shrugged. "We'll let you sit next to us down there if you promise to be nicer."  

Jeremiah laughed and threw his arm around Marston's shoulders. "Come on, little brother, get in the spirit of the season! It's all about giving."

Marston raised his brow and glared down his nose at his brother. "I'm gonna be in the spirit of giving you an ass whooping if you don't get your arm off me."  

Duke grumbled and held the sack out to Marston. "Can we still give these presents, papa? Even though we stole them?"  

Marston pinched his nose between his fingers and counted to three—he didn't' want to hit either one of them again on Christmas. He knew that would only upset Rose. "Did you steal them from the H&H Mercantile?" he finally asked.  

Jeremiah nodded. "We borrowed 'em from there, yes."  

"Borrowed," Marston scoffed. He threw up his hands. "You can give your stolen presents with a smile. I hate those damn bitches."  

---

"Okay, we'll let our guests hand out their presents first," Rose announced as she sat sandwiched on the sofa between Marston and Langley. Duke was once again sitting in the arm chair and Jeremiah had settled himself down on the floor.  

"I feel terrible that you got us something and we have nothing to give to you," Rose admitted, color staining her cheeks.  

"Don't feel guilty," Duke countered with a comforting smile that made Marston's fist twitch. "We came unannounced but knew we couldn't show up at Christmastime empty handed."  

Marston grunted. Actually, they could.

When Jeremiah pulled a brand new storybook from the burlap sack and held it out to Langley, the boy's eyes widened to the size of fifty scent pieces. "Thanks!" he exclaimed. "I'd been wanting this one!"  

"Here ya go," Duke said, tossing a small leather sack toward Langley.  

Langley snatched it out of the air and pulled the string tying it closed. His eyes lit up. "Mama, I got jacks! I have toys!"  

Marston felt Rose shake and he glanced down at her face to realize she was fighting back tears. "That's great," she whispered. Marston's arm gently squeezed her shoulders and he pressed a kiss to her hair.  

"This is for you, ma'am," Duke said as he and Jeremiah handed her a new white bonnet and matching apron.  

"Thank you," Rose beamed, gracing them with a bright smile.  

Jeremiah glanced at Marston. "We didn't get you anything."  

"Good," Marston shrugged. "I didn't get you bastards anything either."  

Without warning Rose got to her feet and headed for the door, motioning at Marston to follow. "Where we going?" he grumbled.  

"Come outside with me," was the only explanation that she gave. Marston nodded, left Langley on the sofa playing with his new treasures and followed Rose out onto the porch.  

Instantly he wrapped his arms tight around her soft body to protect her from the cold air. "You shouldn't be coming out here and letting that cold air in your lungs," he scolded.  

"I wanted to talk in private."  

Marston kissed her hair. "Then talk."  

Rose fixed him with a determined stare. "We 

have to give Jeremiah and Duke something.“

"No, we don't," Marston countered.  

Rose ignored him and pointed at the woodshed. "Let's give them the pocket watch and saddle that Winston had."  

Marston chuckled as he tweaked her cold reddened nose. "You want to give them the things that I stole off the man that I killed as their Christmas presents?"  

Rose shrugged. "He's not using them."  

Her statement had Marston laughing with disbelief as the woman he loved surprised him yet again. "I'll turn you into an outlaw yet."  

"I was raised in an orphanage," she reminded him. "And I was married to an outlaw. I've got a little in my blood."  

"Quit trying to steal my thunder," Marston grumbled with a wink. "You get in out of the cold and I'll go get that saddle and watch."  

---

"Damn, that's a nice saddle!" Duke marveled as he ran his hands over the shimmering brass stirrups and supple leather.  

"I like my watch and all but why couldn't I have the saddle?" Jeremiah moped as he glanced enviously over Duke's shoulder.  

"I'm not giving you a fancy saddle like that one," Marston replied. "You get your horse stolen too damn much."  

Jeremiah's eyes flashed with temper. "The only time my horse gets stolen is when 

you steal it!“

Marston shrugged and wrapped his arm around Rose on the sofa. "Exactly. Why give you something that I'll just be stealing back later?"  

Jeremiah stepped forward. "Why you son of a...."

Rose held up her hand and his jaw snapped shut. "Please, no more fighting on Christmas."  

Jeremiah glared at Marston a moment longer before grumbling under his breath and sulking away. He settled down on the rug in front of the fire, pulled his new watch from his pocket and began to look it over intently.  

"My turn!" Langley exclaimed with excitement. He grabbed the burlap sack he'd kept close to him and pulled out the carefully wrapped present he'd gotten for Rose.  

“You got me a present?” she whispered as tears gathered in her eyes.

Langley simply nodded and bounced from foot to foot. “Unwrap it mama!” he urged.

Rose painstakingly pulled back the soft cloth wrapped around her gift and revealed the delicate ceramic hummingbird beneath. Bright green feathers were surrounded by detailed pink flowers and even Marston had to admit the thing was beautiful.  

"Langley, this is beautiful..." she managed to say, though the words were thick and heavy. A tear fell down her cheek and Marston knew immediately that those were the happy tears that Langley had warned him about.  

Rose carried her new treasure to the crooked mantle and sat it proudly upon the scarred wood with Langley beaming as he watched her.  

Marston frowned when Langley dropped the burlap sack into his lap and he realized something was still inside. "What's that?" Marston asked.  

"Your present..." Langley urged, his hands fidgeting with the bottom of his thin shirt.  

Marston felt the collar of his shirt tighten. "You got me a present?"  

"I sure did.. I hope you like it. Mr. Tray's son, Travis, I talk to him now and then when mama is cleaning house for them and, well, Travis told me that every pa needs to have one of those so I wanted to get you one..."  

As the boy was rambling Marston pulled a light tan, polished corn cob pipe from inside the sack. "There's some tobacco in there too," Langley added with a shrug. "Cuz what good is a pipe without tobacco?"  

Marston wanted to give the boy the approval he was clearly wanting but he feared that if he spoke, the emotion clogging his throat would be too obvious. He cleared his throat and scratched at his chin.  

"I uh.. This is a nice pipe, Langley. I've never gotten a Christmas present before and this is just about the best thing I could have imagined getting."  

Langley's face lit with joy. "Really?! Good! I'm glad you like it! I searched that whole store to find it. Travis told me a pa needs a pipe and I knew you didn't have one."

Marston simply nodded. "Then I needed this pipe," he croaked. Damnation! Marston felt Duke and Jeremiah's eyes on him but thankfully neither said a word as Marston worked hard to compose himself. He let his gaze turn to Rose and he knew she would see the depths of what he was feeling.  

She offered him a tearful smile and took his hand, giving it a tender squeeze which Marston returned. "I guess that means it's my turn to give you and Langley your gifts," she sniffed.  

Rose left the sofa and returned moments later with her sewing bag. She handed each of them a shirt and a pair of trousers. When Marston met Langley's gaze the boy was giving him an 

‘I told you so’ look of historic proportions.

Marston bit back laughter and smiled at his woman. "Thank you, Rose. I certainly needed me some new clothes."  

"Yeah mama," Langley smiled brightly and hugged her. "I think these are the best ones yet!"

Jeremiah clicked his tongue and deposited his pocket watch into the front of his shirt. "Alright, Marston, you're the only one who hasn't given any gifts of your won. You got some or are you lacking the Christmas spirit?"  

Marston glared at his brother. He'd rather die than have them be here to witness this time with his family. Marston still didn't fully trust them and he didn't like knowing they were leaning just how deep his weakness ran with Rose and Langley—he's seen them take advantage of weakness like that and use it to get their way a thousand times in the past. Hell, he himself had once been a man who did so... He'd rather them see him as a cold-hearted son of a bitch than anything else.  

"Duke, why don't you and Jeremiah take that new saddle on out to the barn?" Marston snapped.  

Duke nodded knowingly and stood. He motioned for Jeremiah to do the same. "It's damn cold out there!" Jeremiah argued. "I want to keep my ass in the warm house."  

Duke took a sputtering, cursing Jeremiah by the arm and hauled the skinny man to his feet. "Marston would like some damn alone time with his woman and boy."  

Jeremiah glared at his brother. "My ass liked you better when you let it stay warm," he grumbled.  

Marston saw Rose cover her mouth in an attempt to hide her amusement but Langley did no such thing as he laughed loudly.  

Duke threw open the door and cold wind assaulted the cabin. Rose shivered as her red curls danced and she moved in closer to Marston who was more than happy to wrap his arm tight around her and grace Jeremiah with a smug grin.  

Jeremiah was mumbling something about shooting him again soon as Duke dragged him out the door and then closed it quickly to ward off the chill.  

Once the trio was alone in the cabin, Langley could no longer contain his excitement. "What did you get me?" he exclaimed, bouncing up and down.  

Rose opened her mouth to scold him but Marston chuckled and kissed her hair to silence her. He stood and walked to his saddlebags, pulling out the revolver tucked safely in a leather satchel and Rose's necklace still wrapped tight in soft white cloth.  

He held the satchel out to Langley and the boy snatched it and jerked it open faster than Marston had ever seen him move before. His blue eyes nearly fell from their sockets as he pulled the shining revolver from inside. "Is this mine? That old one?" he whispered, his voice full of wonder.  

Marston felt his heart swell with pride when Langley smiled up at him. "Sure is."  

"But how did you get it to look like this?" Langley demanded, holding up the gun and studying it intently. "It wasn't good for much other than a doorstop before!"  

Marston shrugged. "Just took a little oil and elbow grease."  

Langley's brow furrowed as he frowned up at him. "Elbow grease?"  

"Hard work," Marston chuckled.  

"Gee thanks!" Langley exclaimed before jumping forward and wrapping his thin arm tight around Marston's waist.  

Marston swallowed hard to fight back emotion as he patted Langley's head. "I'm glad you like it."  

"Like it? I love it! It's perfect. It sure is nice to have a pa around here!" Langley's excitement faded a bit as he glanced up at Marston and swallowed hard. "You 

are gonna stay around and be my pa, aren’t you?“

"Um..." Marston cleared his throat and struggled desperately to control his emotions. Never before had he ever felt like this. He'd never felt a happiness so overwhelming that it clogged his throat. "I would be honored to stay around and be your pa, Langley."  

Marston's eye burned. He reached to his cheek and swiped his hand across it and, with shock, he realized it was damp.  

A tear.  

Crying ?

Marston Jacob's had never cried. He'd never cried as a man nor as a child. This innocent ten-year old boy had just done something that no bully, headmaster, whip or backstabbing outlaw had ever managed to accomplish.  

Langley didn't seem to notice the state Marston was in. The boy went to the window and threw open the shutters before taking aim and looking down the revolvers sights.

Marston felt Rose's tiny hands on his back and he sniffed before swallowing hard and letting out a sigh. His chest was still tight but Marston was fairly certain that no more tears were going to fall—he couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that a few had already fallen.  

Rose stepped around him and looked up into his eyes. "Thank you, Marston."  

Marston shifted his feet and shook his head. "Those words again...." he grumbled. "You know I don't like them."  

"Well too bad," Rose countered, her stubborn chin stuck out. "You're going to hear them today."  

"Here," Marston mumbled gruffly. He stuck the folded cloth in her hand. "I got you something too."  

Rose held that folded cloth as if it were a newborn babe. "You didn't have to get me anything," she assured him, even as she pulled back the folds. "You've already given me so much..."  

"Just open it," Marston growled impatiently.

Rose's eyes widened when she saw the necklace. "Marston...!" she gasped as she ran her fingertip gently over the delicate pink cameo and ivory roses. Tears filled her eyes. "I've never owned anything this beautiful..."  

Marston took the locket from her hand and motioned for her to turn. Rose lifted her hair as she did so and Marston fastened the dainty chain around her pale neck. He slid his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her head as they watched Langley pretended to shoot at critters only he could see.  

"What do you think of having a family, outlaw?" Rose whispered.  

"It feels damn good," Marston replied, filling with pride. Never in his life had he imagined he'd be a family man but now these two people were his reason for living—Marston would have nothing without them.

A knock came on the cabin door, interrupting the quiet intimacy of the moment. "Can we come back in now?" Duke's deep voice rumbled.  

Jeremiah grunted. "Yeah, I got icicles hanging off my ass."  

Langley turned away from the window and ran toward the door. "Oh, this I gotta see!"

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Two days later found Marston in the barn attempting to clean the stalls but bumping elbows with Jeremiah who was filling the water troughs. “Why are you still here?!” Marston demanded, tossing down his rake.

Duke looked up from the ground as he lounged against the doorframe. "Are you eager to get rid of us?"  

Marston was quiet a moment as he listened to the sound of Rose scrubbing clothes and Langley whistling tunes as he gathered eggs. "It's not that..."

"Then what?" Jeremiah asked, setting his empty water bucket down.  

Marston swiped his sleeve across his sweaty brow. "I just can't figure out what the hell you're still doing there. I appreciate you riding in to save my family but I know damn well you only stayed for Christmas because Rose demanded it and I sure as hell can't understand what's got you sticking around and getting domesticated."  

Duke took a long draw off the cigarette in his hand and blew out the smoke slowly. "I'm not sure why I'm still here," he admitted. He kicked at a piece of hay on the ground. "I guess somewhere inside this ruthless, old outlaw there's still a little boy that wants a place to call home."  

"Damn Duke.." Jeremiah batted his lashes and feigned a sniffle. "That was beautiful."  

Marston shoved his brother, who stumbled sideways and nearly fell in the newly filled water trough. "Duke, there was a day I would have told you that you were brain addled for even thinking something like that but now... Hell, I never thought I wanted any of this but now I couldn't see my life without it. It's nice to have a home and it's even nicer to have folks who care to come home to."  

"Well that's just about the nicest thing I've ever heard you say," Jeremiah mused. "Why it sounded almost soft."  

Marston growled as his hand inched toward his revolver and Duke quickly stepped in. "Hell, Jeremiah, even soft Marston could still wipe the floor with just about any other man alive. That's what happens when you're seven foot tall and about as dainty as a hundred year old oak."  

Marston snatched up his rake and went back to work. "Are the two of you leaving soon?"  

"Yeah, tonight," Duke replied, tossing his cigarette out of the barn.  

Marston finished up spreading a bit of saw dust in the stall and leaned his rake against the wall as he nodded. "Good," he grumbled, glaring at his brother.  

Marston stepped out of the barn and headed straight for Rose where she stood at a rickety table scrubbing clothes on a washboard. A bright smile lit up her face when she saw him but Marston frowned. "If you're not going to let me do it for you then you at least need to be inside with all this," he grumbled. "You spend the day in this cold air with your hands in water and you'll turn bad sick again."  

Rose's eye swept upward dramatically. "Yes sir," she quipped.  

Marston hefted up the wash basin full of soapy water and strode to the door. "Care to open the door, love?" he called over his shoulder at Rose. "My back ain't as young as it used to be."

Marston sat the tub of water in front of the fire and pulled Rose against his chest. "Now get that list of supplies written up and I'll head to town and pick them up after I finish carrying the clothes in."  

Rose bit her lip and looked up at him. "I feel guilty ordering such things," she admitted. "We don't 

need them… I just said I wanted them one day.“

Marston smoothed her hair from her face and kissed her cold nose. "And from now on you'll have what you want as well as what you need. Now write that list and I'll bring the other things in."  

---

"I'm surprised that boy didn't want to come with you," Duke admitted as he and Jeremiah rode their horses beside the cart Marston was driving.  

Marston snorted. "He had his nose buried in that book Jeremiah stole for him."  

"It doesn't matter if it was stole," Jeremiah grumbled. "It's the thought that counts."  

"I'm gonna raise that boy different from how we were raised," Marston argued. "I'm gonna teach him to work hard for what he wants, that stealing is never right and that killing is wrong..." Marston grinned. "Most of the time."  

 Duke didn't say a word in response but Jeremiah spent most of the remainder of the trip to town grumbling about how Marston was 

ruining the boy.

Marston pulled the cart to a stop at the H&H mercantile and hopped to the ground. He frowned when Duke and Jeremiah dismounted as well. "We're coming in with you."  

"Why?" Marston demanded, feeling more than a little tired of having two new shadows.  

"Because it'll piss you off," Jeremiah grinned.  

"And because we want to meet the fine women that we borrowed those lovely presents from," Duke added.  

Marston simply shook his head and entered the store with the duo on his heels. "Oh look, Hattie," Hester sneered from behind the counter. "It's our favorite and most loyal customer..and he brought a couple of his smelly friends with him as well."  

"Hello there, Hester," Marston greeted with a tip of his head. "I see you're just as charming as always."  

Hattie waddled in from the backroom and nearly collapsed when she took in the sight of Duke grabbing some jerked beef from a barrel while Jeremiah absently flipped through the pages of the catalogue in his hands.  

"You've done it now!" Hattie hissed at her sister. "You were rude and now he's brought his gang back to kill us."  

Marston grinned over at Duke who was frowning. "You told her it was your gang?"  

Marston shrugged. "I never mentioned a gang. I suppose I just have a certain leadership quality that you lack."  

"Damn oak tree," Duke grumbled before tearing off a piece of the dried meat with his teeth.  

"So what can I do for you 

gentlemen ?“ Hester inquired, pulling off her spectacles and wiping them on her apron before settling them back over her cow eyes.

"There's that friendly service that folks come for miles just to experience," Marston chuckled. He pulled out the list Rose had written. "I need you to get these things ready for me."  

Hester peered down her hooked nose at the list he placed in her hand. "Well, I must say this isn't Rose's usual shopping list. I never have known the woman to be quite so frivolous."  

Marston wondered what the hell was so frivolous about getting a bit of extra fabric and a few treats for the kitchen. He tapped the counter with his fingertips. "Well, I must say that it's none of your concern. Your only job is to gather up the things the woman wrote down." He moved away from the counter and paused. "Just lay them on the boardwalk when you're done. I'll save myself the loading fee and do it myself."  

Marston was heading for the door when Hester cleared her throat. "You know a rather odd thing happened."  

Marston turned back to her, plastering that false smile on his face. "The anticipation is killing me."   

She licked her thin lips and laid the list on the countertop. "My sister and I came in the day after Christmas to find that we'd had more merchandise stolen."  

"That 

is terrible“ Marston agreed.

"That's the danger in owning a business in this day and time," Duke mused tossing a coin on the counter to pay for the jerked beef he was gnawing on.  

"You should invest in a guard dog," Jeremiah added as he tossed the catalogue down.  

Hester's eyes narrowed and she pointed a long, bony finger up at Marston's face. "I have my eyes on you, Marston."  

Marston leaned stepped back to the counter and stooped down, leaving very little distance between them. He could see the fear the instant it came to her eyes and victory coursed through his blood. "And I have mine on you, Hester," he warned quietly.  

As Marston stood straight once again, Hester became flustered, scooped up the list and dashed away to begin filling it. Marston growled under his breath and strode from the store with Duke and Jeremiah following closely.  

"That's a friendly woman," Jeremiah chuckled.  

"About as cuddly as a damned cactus," Duke agreed.  

Marston pulled his duster coat tighter and stepped across the road to the blacksmith shop. "Good to see you again, Marston!" Tray boomed when he noticed the trio step inside. He pulled off his thick gloves and shook each man's hand in turn. "You look like you've something on your mind, Marston," Tray stated as Marston lounged against the tool bench. "What can I do for you?"  

Marston scratched at his jaw. "I'd be interested in a job."  

"A job!?" Jeremiah and Duke exclaimed in unison.  

Marston shot them a hard look that had them stepping back but didn't stop their horrified murmurs and mutters that let him know they clearly feared he'd lost his mind.  

"Now I don't want to sound quite like your disbelieving friends there, but, a job? You want to be a blacksmith?" Tray asked.  

Marston pushed himself away from the tool bench. "Not exactly," he replied. "I was actually thinking about opening a gunsmith shop and I was hoping I could rent a bit of your extra space here."  

Tray rubbed at his hair as he glanced around thoughtfully. "I suppose I could rent some space to you. I think you'd do alright with a gun shop. Most folks around here have to send their guns off to have them worked on and folks passing through are always asking me to tend to their weapons. You definitely seem like a man who knows his way around a firearm."  

Marston grinned as he rolled his shoulders and felt the familiar weight of his rifle on his back. "Thanks Tray." Marston reached his hand out and shook Tray's firmly. "I appreciate it. We'll work out the details later. I'll have to get some supplies ordered."  

"Just come on in whenever you're ready," Tray agreed.  

"Have you lost your mind?" Duke demanded once they were back on the street.  

"What the hell have you done with my brother?" Jeremiah chimed in.  

Marston growled. "Is it that surprising that I want to work for my money?"  

Both of them nodded firmly. "Yes it is!" Jeremiah exclaimed.  

Duke shook his head. "I can understand that woman and kid getting under your skin and putting settling down in your mind but a 

job?! “ Duke hissed the last word as if it were poison.

"I want to teach Langley to work hard for what he wants and not take the easy way out and steal his way through life." Marston shrugged. "I figure the best way to do that is to get a job."  

"Stealing ain't easy!" Jeremiah blustered. "You get shot at! Every now and then you take a punch. It can be damn hard work."  

Instead of gracing his annoying jackass of an older brother with a reply, Marston made his way back to the H&H Mercantile to find Hester standing over his pile of goods with a haughty sneer on her narrow face.  

Without a word, Marston began loading his supplies into the cart. Duke and Jeremiah merely lounged against the banisters and watched. Apparently they were there as strictly moral support.  

"Thank you, Hester," Marston flashed her the politest smile his arsenal contained. "As always it was a pleasure doing business with your fine establishment."  

He hopped up onto the cart and grabbed the reins, eager to be away from town and back at the cabin. Hester's bony hand clutching tightly at his thick forearm had him frowning and glaring down at her. "Don't touch me," he hissed.  

She didn't back down and Marston was forced to admit, albeit silently, that she had nerve. "I want you to know that I sent the Marshal in Millerton a wire. I let him know a man named Marston was living in our town and that he was the bad sort."  

Marston chuckled and folded his arms on his lap, gripping the reins loosely with his fingertips. "And?"  

Hester's lips pursed. "He claims he has no knowledge of who you are and has never before heard of you."  

Marston shook his head sadly. "That must be a great disappointment to you, Hester."  

Hester moved closer, her nails digging into his arm. "I'll be watching you, Marston. I know a no-good thief when I see one."  

Marston winked, unwilling to admit that the little heifer was hurting his arm with those claws of hers. "And with those eyes of yours I'm sure you won't miss a thing."  

She scoffed as she released her hold on him and took a step back. Marston flicked the reins and started Buck down the road, purposely shifting the cart sideways so Hester would have to dodge to avoid being hit by the wheel.  

"What a bitch," Duke grumbled as they headed out of town.  

"I've always thought so," Marston agreed.  

"She tried to rat you out to the law, Marston!" Jeremiah exclaimed.  

"I know that, Jeremiah. I was there when she told me, remember?"  

"You want me to kill her?" Jeremiah offered, a cold smile curving his lips. "I'd do it with a smile."  

Marston frowned. "I thought you didn't kill women."  

Amusement lit Jeremiah eyes. "That ain't a woman. That's a harpy."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The days passed quickly, flying into weeks which, in turn, became months. Marston had never been more satisfied with his life than he was now. He had a son and he had a woman who was a wife to him in every way that mattered. He’d offered to make the marriage legal but no one in the backwater town was ordained to do so and Marston was too keen on having some nosy two-bit government type give him a sheet of paper with a signature on it.

Hell, all that mattered was what was in Marston's heart and Rose's heart and as far as either of them was concerned, they were husband and wife.  

Marston listened to the early morning sounds of spring outside the bedroom window as Rose breathed gently against his chest and he held her close. He closed his eyes, deciding that he didn't need to rush off to work today, and he was nearly asleep once again when the peace of the morning was shattered by Rose tensing and letting out a scream before attempting to leap from his arms.  

Marston sighed and did his best to comfort and soothe her as she jerked, kicked and punched for all she was worth, struggling against his hold. Marston hated this. It made him feel helpless and powerless and neither were feelings he enjoyed. Nothing in the world was worse on a man than seeing the woman he loved suffering being able to do 

nothing to stop her pain.

"Rose, love, who's hurting you?" he asked gently, grunting when her elbow sank between his ribs. He didn't honestly think she'd answer even in her dream state but she shocked him when she opened her mouth.  

"Gilliam."  

Marston finally had a name.  

His shock at her admission had his hold on her loosening and that proved to be a mistake as she was still asleep and that nightmare was still plaguing her. Her fist shot up and the heel of her hand caught Marston in the nose.  

"Dammit!" he bellowed, leaping away from her and clutching at his face.  

Rose's eyes flew open and horror filled their blue depths. "Did I hit you?"  

Marston paused in his ranting string of curses and mustered a grin behind his hand. "No, I hit myself."  

Tears filled Rose's eyes and Marston felt blood trickling between his fingers. Damn the woman had a mean right hook.  

"Oh god... you're bleeding!" she gasped, sobs building in her chest.  

Marston sighed. "I'm fine, Rose. I've had worse. Can you get me a towel?"  

Rose quickly left the bedroom, her nightdress swishing around her ankles as she dashed from the room. She returned moments later with a small towel and Marston pressed the cotton tight against his bleeding nose. "Did I break it?" Rose whispered, wringing her hands.  

Marston chuckled, the sound muffled with the towel on his face. "No, you didn't break it," he assured her. "You just hurt its feelings real bad."  

Rose frowned and smoothed his thick brown hair from his brow. "I'm sorry."  

Marston waved his hand dismissively. "No need for apologies. I've taken harder licks than that and I'm still here."

Guilt was still etched deep in Rose's features and when Marston pulled the towel away and she saw the bright red blood staining it, her face paled considerably. "I've never hit anyone...."  

Marston laughed lightly as he felt his nose. It was done bleeding and it was tender as hell but he'd be just fine. "You should make a habit of doing it more," he teased. "You have a good arm."  

The indignant expression on Rose's face caused Marston to burst into laughter and when she grabbed a pillow and hit him upside the head with it, his laughter intensified  

"You're not funny!" she snapped, though he could see her lips twitching.  

"I'm hilarious," Marston countered, gaining control of his amusement.  

Rose glared and walked to her wardrobe. Keeping her back to him, she slid from her nightdress and let the fabric fall to the floor.  

A surge of heat shot through Marston. Desire slammed into him like a runaway train. Rose was all soft pale skin and Marston's fingers itched to stroke her, touch her, tease her until she was whimpering and purring beneath him.....  

Damn, what he felt for that woman was strong. The months had done nothing to ease the want he had for her, instead the attraction had grown and morphed into something that Marston knew would last a lifetime.  

"You better get that off your mind," Rose warned, wagging a finger at him. "I can hear Langley moving around out there so there's no time."  

Marston merely sat there and watched her as she slid into her underclothes and took a blue gingham dress she had finished making just yesterday from the wardrobe. She realized his eyes were still on her and he saw the flush work its way down her neck.  

Marston stood from the bed slowly and Rose's sharp intake of breath filled the room. He always slept without clothes and clearly Rose was appreciating that fact right about now. He pretended he didn't notice her gaze on him as he slid into his clothes and strapped his knife to his leg.  

After pulling on his boots and slipping his hat on his head, Marston let his eyes go to her and he realized that her hands were still on her hair but her movements had stilled and she was no longer braiding the red strands. He walked to her as her blue eyes darkened and gazed at him longingly.  

Marston gave her a quick, chaste kiss and chuckled. "You better get that off your mind," he warned. "Langley's awake."  

Rose was sputtering and Marston was nearly certain he even heard a curse or two pass through her lips as he quickly fled the bedroom with laughter rumbling from his chest.  

"Good morning, Langley," he greeted the boy who was sitting at the table playing with the jacks that Duke had given him at Christmas. Langley's 

uncles had been to visit two times since then much to Marston’s surprise.

"Good morning, pa," Langley replied brightly. Marston ruffled his red hair and then went to the cabinet and got out the skillet. "What are you doing?" Langley inquired, his eyes narrowing.  

"I was gonna make us some eggs for breakfast," Marston replied setting the skillet on the cook stove, which Langley had already gotten a fire built in. "I don't know about you but my stomach is eating my backbone."  

"Every time I swallow, my stomach yells at me to quit teasing it," Langley agreed. But then he shivered. "Are you sure you wanna make eggs?"  

Marston frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"  

Langley chewed the inside of his lip and tapped the table. "Well, every time you make eggs, they're so watery we have to tip up our plates and drink them like soup!"  

"They're not that damn bad," Marston grumbled.  

Langley snorted. "Are too."  

Marston crossed his arms over his chest and stared down his nose at the boy. "You know when I was your age I barely ever got breakfast. I barely got any food at all. I would have sold my left damn leg for a plate full of watery eggs."  

Langley stared up at Marston a moment, appeared bored with the whole conversation and then went back to playing his jacks. Marston grinned. Score one for him—he'd actually managed to render Langley speechless.  

"I'll save your stomach and let your mama do the cooking," Marston relented, heading for the door and grabbing his gun belt off the back of the chair. "I'm gonna go feed the critters while you get busy with your math."  

"Okay," Langley began dropping his jacks back into a tiny burlap sack. "Uncle Jeremiah showed me a real fun way to do it!"  

Marston cinched his gun belt tight around his hips and shook his head. "Figuring out how many cattle a rancher will have left after you rustle a few isn't the best way to practice your math."  

Langley grinned. "Uncle Jeremiah says it is."  

Marston let out a long sigh as he opened the door. "Your 

uncle Jeremiah has suffered heat stroke at least a dozen times. He isn’t the best to be taking advice from.“

---

Langley had long since gone to bed that night as Rose sat curled up in the arm chair with her sewing and Marston sat on the sofa, smoking his pipe and watching her closely. He needed to talk to her, he just hated that it was going to ruin the peace of this moment.  

"That must have been a hell of a dream this morning," he finally spoke.  

Rose didn't look up from her sewing. "Yes. But it wasn't anything I'm not used to." She paused to frown at him. "I'm sorry about your nose."  

"My nose is fine," he promised. "It finally doesn't hurt when I breathe."  

Rose's lips twitched. "I 

did get you pretty good.“

Marston laughed and leaned across the distance separating them to press a tender kiss to her cheek. He swelled with pride and love at the sight of the happy smile that lit her face.  

"Wanna talk to me about the dream?" he asked, settling back on the sofa.  

She shook her head, her eyes dropping back to her sewing. "You know I don't."  

Marston growled under his breath. Yeah, he knew Rose didn't want to but she was going to anyway. Marston had been patient all these months just waiting for her to open up—he was done waiting.  

"Well then tell me who Gilliam is."  

Rose's face paled, her sewing clattered to the floor and her lips trembled as she looked at him with blue eyes that were wild. "Who?"  

"You heard me," Marston replied, hating to see her so frightened but knowing that this was the only way he could see revenge served. "You said his name this morning during your dream. Who is Gilliam?"  

Rose turned her head and stared into the fire. How did you tell the man that you loved that Gilliam was the name of the man who was supposed to be your father? The man who starved you, beat you and forced you to lay with countless men for money? How did you tell him that it was the name of the man who forced you to lay with him, got you with child and then sold you to the highest bidder?

Rose wasn't even aware that Marston had moved until he was lifting her from the arm hair and settling her down on his lap. His strong body enveloped her and his warm lips kissed her hair. "Rose, you can tell me."  

Rose listened to his heart beat beneath his ear and picked at the button on his shirt. Her heart pounded, her lips shook and her stomach churned but Rose knew she had to tell him. She couldn't keep it all locked inside any longer.  

"Gilliam Montgomery was the man who adopted me from the orphanage when I was ten," she whispered. "I couldn't believe it when he picked me over all the younger children. I was certain that he was my savior.... Then one night, about two months after he took me, the first man showed up."  

Rose shivered as memories of that night flashed in her mind. The tastes, the scent, the touches—all of them just as vivid as if they had happened last night instead of years ago.  

Marston felt a wildfire of rage spark to life in his blood. He knew Gilliam Montgomery—or at least knew of him. He had met him a few times and hadn't thought he was too bad a man—of course Marston had realized he was keeping children as whores either. It was well known that you could sample women if you went to Gilliam but no one ever mentioned little girls.  

"How long did he have you, Rose?" Marston whispered, his jaw so tight it felt as if it would snap.  

"Almost six years," came her quiet reply.  

Marston held her tighter, hoping that somehow his touch would take her pain away. He wanted to do nothing more than shield and protect her from anything bad in the world. "I'm sorry, Rose."  

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she assured him, pressing her lips to the throbbing pulse in his throat. "The worst part about what he did to me is that I know who Langley's father is."  

"Me," Marston snapped more roughly than he'd intended.  

Rose raised her head to look at him and he saw the haunted, bone deep sorrowful look in her blue eyes. "Gilliam. He beat me one night and then he...he 

forced me…“ Rose’s voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut tight against the pain. “Langston came not long after and took me away. Three weeks later I learned I was with child.”

Marston didn't know what to say and he was afraid to speak. If he spoke she would hear the rage boiling in his blood. If he spoke, she would hear the barely contained fury and Marston knew that in this moment, that wasn't something she needed to hear.  

So he did the only thing he could do and simply held her close. He held her silently within his arms as the fire dwindled to nothing but smoldering embers.  

Marston felt Rose twitch in his arms and he turned his gaze to her face to find that she was sleeping peacefully against him. Marston stood, cradling her soft body in his arms and he carried her to the bed.  

Rose mumbled softly in her sleep as Marston laid her upon the feather tick mattress. He kissed her brow tenderly and pulled the blankets up to her chin.  

Silently, Marston packed his saddlebags and pulled paper and a pencil from the cabinet. He wrote two letters and folded them carefully. Marston left one on the table and slipped silently into Langley's bedroom with the second. He patted the sleeping boy's red hair as emotion clogged his throat.  

Quickly Marston laid the letter on top of Langley's favorite storybook and fled the room. He gathered up his weapons, strapped them on, shouldered his saddlebag, snatched up his duster and left the cabin.  

Gilliam Montgomery would pay for what he'd done to Rose—pay for what he'd stolen from her. Marston set off into the night with only one thought resonating in his mind.

Vengeance.

---

Rose knew instantly upon awakening that she was alone in the bed. Reaching over her hand, Rose realized that Marston's pillow was cold—he hadn't slept there last night.  

Fear settled deep in her gut. What if Marston had left her? What if the full knowledge of her past—the full knowledge of Langley's paternity had been too much for him?  

Deep inside Rose knew that her fears were foolish but that did nothing to make them less real. She listened for any sign of movement in the cabin but heard nothing. The morning was silent and still.  

Rose's bare feet carried her to the empty kitchen. The air held a chill and Rose decided to start a fire in the cook stove to warm the place up however she was distracted from that task when she saw the piece of folded paper on the table with her name on it.  

She recognized Marston's messy handwriting and her heart dropped into her stomach.  

He had left.  

She picked the paper up and unfolded the trembling piece of paper.  

Rose,

You know what you mean to me. There is nothing that I would not do to keep you happy and safe. You also know that I am not a patient man, I am not an understanding man and I am not a forgiving man. 


I have suffered through all these nightmares with you these last few months. I have held you while you've cried and felt more and more helpless with each tear. Helplessness and I are not a good match. There is nothing I can do to fix the wrongs that were done to you but I damn well can make sure that the man responsible pays. 


I am going to be honest with you because I don't want secrets between us. I know the man you spoke of last night. I know where he was as of a year ago. It is my intent to find him and see him bleed for what he's done to you. 


I love you, Rose. I shouldn't be gone longer than two weeks but if I am please don't worry. He might have moved and it might take longer to track him down than I hope it will. Take care of yourself while I'm gone and don't work too hard. If there is anything you need, I left all the money under the loose floorboard. Don't worry about me. I'm good at surviving. 

Yours forever

Marston

Rose sat down hard in the chair as realization dawned on her. She had finally told Marston the name of the man who had wronged her and caused those nightmares she had so often and he had run off to avenge her.  

Rose hated the thought of him killing again. It made her stomach ache and burn to know that he would be taking a life but Rose also knew that Marston would not hesitate to kill anyone who harmed those he loved—and he did love her. And she loved him as well—fiercely.  

Rose did the only thing she could do. She sent a prayer up to God to bring her man home safe and forgive him the wrong he was preparing to do.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was dark when Marston slipped from Buck’s back seven days later. He was somewhere in the middle of nowhere in northeastern Texas and the night sky was clear and dotted with stars.

A lantern was glowing in the window of the shack in the distance and two horses were hitched outside. Marston knew Gilliam was here tonight and he had one of his collection of whores no doubt laying with whoever owned that second horse.  

All Marston could think of—all he'd thought of for days—was Rose and the hell that this man had put her through. His blood had long since turned to ice in his veins and there was no room left in his mind for doubts. Was this cold blooded murder? Yes. Was it justified? Damn straight.  

Marston left his rifle in the saddle and slipped through the shadows. He wouldn't be needing a long range weapon. Marston wanted to be up close and personal when he took Gilliam's life. He wanted to cause the man as much pain as he could before he let his heart stop beating.  

Approaching the cabin, Marston crouched beside the open window and listened. Two men were arguing inside and he could hear a girl sobbing.  

Girl—not woman.  

Damnation! Gilliam had another girl. Marston glanced through the window and recognized Gilliam instantly and the man he was arguing with was Vincent Sharp. Vincent was bare from the waist up and he wore a bloody handprint on his chest.  

Marston's eyes went past them to the tiny bed in the corner and the young girl who was curled up there naked and bleeding. She couldn't be any more than ten or twelve and she was pale skin pulled tightly over bones as she trembled violently.  

Suddenly Marston felt a bone deep shame fill him. A shame that the life he had led for so long had had him traveling roads with men like these. These men were monsters and Marston sent up a prayer that God would forgive him for every wrong thing he had ever done and every innocent person he had ever harmed. He didn't ask forgiveness for what he was about to do because as far as he was concerned there was no wrong in it.  

Marston pulled his revolver, took a deep steadying breath and then kicked the door with all his might. With a splintering of wood the door flew open and Marston fired a shot directly into Vincent's chest. Without sparing the man another glance, Marston leapt toward Gilliam and brought his revolver down hard on his head. Gilliam crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap.  

Marston smiled as he hogtied the man and tossed him in the corner. The smile faded when he turned his attention to the girl on the bed. He realized just how much had changed in that moment. The Marston he'd been before Rose and Langley would have barely spared the girl a second glance. The Marston he'd been before would have shrugged her way, chalked it up to bad luck in life and walked away.  

But he wasn't that man any longer.  

Marston walked toward her slowly, approaching her with his hands up just as he would a wild animal. The low lamplight revealed that her physical state was poor. Her blond hair was knotted, dirty and limp around her gaunt face. Each and every bone in her bare body jutted out roughly against her pale skin—skin that was covered in wounds and scars just like Rose.  

The girl whimpered and wrapped her arms around herself tightly as she shied away from him. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you." She didn't look the least bit convinced by his promises.  

"Where are your clothes, girl?" Marston asked, glancing around.  

The girl's green eyes were wary but Marston could see hope beginning to light them. She held out one thin arm and pointed toward a chest in the corner.  

Marston walked to the chest and pulled out a yellow gingham dress and underclothes. He tossed them on the bed beside her. "Can you dress yourself?" he asked, hoping the answer was yes.   

"Yes," she whispered, her voice frail.  

Marston turned his back to her and gave her as much privacy as the tiny cabin would allow. When she was dressed, Marston pulled his bandana from his pocket and held it out to her. She frowned and he pointed to her cheek which was cut and bleeding.  

The girl pressed her fingertips to her wound and winced before looking at the blood covering them. She took the offered bandana and held it over her face.  

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Kaitlyn.”

“Do you have a home? A family?”

Kaitlyn shook her head. “Gilliam adopted me.”

The girl was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm so Marston grabbed a scratchy wool blanket and laid it over her shoulders. “Yeah, well, I don’t think he’s gonna be in any shape to be your pa after tonight,” Marston assured her and the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.

Marston led Kaitlyn out of the cabin and took her to Buck. "Do you know how to use this?" he asked, placing his heavy revolver in her hand.  

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "You just pull the hammer back, aim the revolver and squeeze the trigger slowly," he advised. Kaitlyn nodded. "Stay right here and wait on me."  

Marston left her standing there as he slipped off through the night once more and returned to the cabin. He strode across the tiny shack to Gilliam and found the man awake and staring at him with pale blue eyes.  

"What are you doing, Marston?" Gilliam snapped. "Untie me now and bring my daughter back here!"  

Marston simply shook his head and smiled as he pulled his knife.  

Gilliam's eyes widened and he tried to scoot away only to smack his head against the wooden floorboards. "Marston, what are you doing? You've lost your damned mind!" Marston took a step forward and Gilliam blanched. "I've never done a damn thing to you."  

Marston paused and nodded. "You're right. You haven't." He put his knife away and left the shack. He took the whip from the saddlebag of Gilliam's horse. He held that braided piece of leather in his hands and imagined the pain it had inflicted on the woman he loved—the pain it had dealt to that innocent little girl in the woods.  

Once again rage flowed through his veins like blood itself. His fist clenched around the handle and an animalistic growl rumbled from his chest.  

"What are you going to do with that?" Gilliam gulped when Marston reentered the shack.  

Marston snorted. "I'm going to hit you with it obviously."  

"Why would you want to do that?!" Gilliam's voice rose with hysteria.  

"Why would you want to hit Rose with it?" Marston countered, his temper rising.  

"W..who?" Gilliam whispered, recognition dawning in his frightened eyes.  

Marston grinned as he tossed the whip over his shoulder. "I know you're dumb as a brick, Gilliam, but even you must remember your own daughter. Rose? Tell me, was it that red hair that made you pick her out of all those other girls? Or was it her deep blue eyes that you figured men would like?"

Gilliam swallowed hard and his eyes darted about the shack as if hoping someone would come out of the shadows and save him. "Why do you care?" he whimpered.  

Marston clicked his tongue. "Because Rose is mine now and I don't much like thoughts of what you did to her."  

"I never did nothing to that girl but make her earn her keep!" Gilliam countered.  

Marston growled. "Wrong answer." He snapped his wrist and the whip cracked through the air, landing sharply across Gilliam's chest. The man's shirt tore and blood quickly seeped through.  

Gilliam's cry of pain echoed through the shack.  

"Hurts doesn't it?" Marston mused as he once again laid the whip gently over his own shoulder.  

Gilliam was sniveling at Marston's feet and pleading for his life. Marston sneered down at the man and spit at him feeling an overwhelming disgust ash over him.  

This man at his feet took pleasure in hurting those weaker than himself. He used his fists, his knives and his whips to prove he was tougher and stronger. He starved them, beat them and used them up until they had nothing left. Yet when that man was faced with someone he couldn't so easily control, he folded like a whipped pup and sobbed like a babe.  

"What do you want me to say?" Gilliam whimpered as fat tears rolled down his rough cheeks.  

Marston glared down at him with pure, unfiltered hatred. "You might as well be honest about what you did to Rose. It won't save your worthless life but it might just cause the almighty to take a bit of pity on you."  

"And what about you?" Gilliam whispered, pleading at Marston with his eyes. "Will you have mercy on me? Will you make it quick?"  

Marston chuckled. "Not a chance."  

---

Marston joined Kaitlyn at Buck's side after more than an hour of being away. "Are you ready to go, little one?"  

He heard her gasp at the sight of him and he glanced down at himself and saw that he was covered in blood splatter. He could feel those same crimson drops drying upon his face and he realized he should have attempted to clean up at least a little before returning to her.  

Marston had been told on more than one occasion that the look in his eyes after he murdered someone was cold enough to freeze hell. He didn't want to scare the poor girl who already trembled like a leaf. Marston closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then opened again and smiled comfortingly.  

"Are you ready to go now, Kaitlyn?"  

She spared a glance at the cabin and nodded as she bit her lip. "Is he dead?"  

Marston took his revolver from her hand and holstered it before sliding onto Buck's back. He helped Kaitlyn up behind him and waited as she adjusted the blanket around her shoulders.  

Marston glanced over his shoulder and saw her green eyes darting in every direction as she gnawed at her lower lip. "You don't have to be scared anymore," he assured her. "He won't be coming after you ever again."  

She nodded and pressed her cut cheek against the back of his duster coat. Marston urged Buck forward and patted her hand where it rested on his middle. "How old are you, Kaitlyn?"  

"Eleven," came her quiet response.  

Marston growled. What was it about little girls that made men like Gilliam want to steal their innocence?

"I have a boy about your age. I'm sure you and him will get along just fine."  

Her head raised. "You're taking me home with you?" she gasped.  

Marston heard that same awe in her voice that had been in Langley's when they'd first met and it made Marston feel just as damn awkward as it had when Langley had done it. Hell, he didn't want people looking up to him—he didn't want them thinking he was something that he wasn't.

"That's right. My wife Rose will be happy to have another woman around. She's always sewing, cooking or cleaning something."  

"Yes, I can help with those things!" Kaitlyn vowed, sounding almost happy about the prospect.  

Marston hoped that meant he'd rescued the girl before she'd been damaged too badly. "Good," he replied with a nod.  

His heart swelled when Kaitlyn's tiny arms tightened around him. It looked like he'd ridden off looking for vengeance and was coming home with a daughter.  

---

"Hello the house!"  

Vincent Sharp moaned upon the blood soaked floorboards of the cabin when he heard the voice calling from outside. He dragged himself several feet to the open door. "Hello....." he called weakly.  

"Holy hell!" a man exclaimed as he jumped from his horse and ran to the shack. Vincent collapsed once again, all his energy spent. "What the hell happened here?"  

The man's eyes went past Vincent and he gagged and covered his mouth with his palm when he saw Gilliam in the corner. Vincent had been doing his best to not look at Gilliam too often. The man was an unrecognizable mess of shredded flesh and blood.   

"Get me to a doc..." Vincent pleaded, dragging the man's attention away from the dead body.  

"Who did this to you?" the man asked as he pulled Vincent up and dragged him toward the waiting horse.  

Vincent felt hatred burn in his gut. "Marston Jacobs."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Langley had been feeling his worry grow with every day that Marston was gone. It had been over two weeks since Marston had left and the note he'd left Langley had been very clear—he might not be coming back. Langley pulled that worn and folded piece of paper from his pocket for the hundredth and didn't have to read it to know what it said.  

Langley

I have some business to take care of and I'm going to be gone a while. I expect you to keep up with your chores while I'm away and mind your mama. 


If something happens while I'm away and I can't come back to you and your mama, I want you to know how much having you both in my life has meant to me. I didn't tell your mama that there's a chance I won't come back because you know how she worries, but I wanted you to know. 


You are a good young man and if I can't come back then you'll be the man of the house and you'll have to keep your mama safe and keep her company because she'll be sad. You'll have to be strong for her but I'm not worried because I know you can be. 


I should be home in a couple weeks but in case I'm not, thank you for letting me be your pa. 


Marston

Langley carefully folded the letter and slipped it back into his pocket. It had been over two weeks....Langley was beginning to think that Marston wasn't coming back. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run out into the world, find his pa and bring him back. But Langley couldn't do any of those things. Marston had asked him to look after his mama and that's what he was going to do.  

When he heard his mama in the kitchen, Langley stood from his bed and walked out of his room. He studied her closely and wondered what she was thinking. It was clear that she was worried and it was also obvious that she hadn't been sleeping well while Marston had been away. Her hair was messy, her face paler than usual and there were dark circles surrounding her distracted eyes.  

"Good morning, mama," Langley greeted as he sat down at the table.  

Rose barely glanced over her slumped shoulder at him as she kneaded bread dough. "Good morning, baby."  

Langley didn't remind her that he was no longer a baby. She placed a plate of oatmeal and peaches on the table in front of him and Langley frowned. "Aren't you going to eat?"  

Rose shook her head, avoided his gaze and went back to her bread. "No, I'm not hungry this morning."  

Langley sighed as he picked up his spoon and began to eat. He knew his mama needed to eat but he also knew that she wouldn't. Arguing would be a waste of time. Lately she hadn't been doing much other than staring out the window as if hoping to see Marston riding in at any moment.  

"Eat your breakfast, Langley. Then we'll feed the animals and head into town. I need to speak with Doctor Brinkley."  

Langley dropped his spoon into his bowl. "What's wrong with you?"  

His mama met his gaze for the first time and Langley could feel her sadness it was etched so deep into her face. He wanted to help her, to protect her, but he had no idea how. The ghost of a smile curved her mouth. "Nothing," she promised. "Why would you think something was wrong with me?"  

Langley's eyes narrowed. "If nothing is wrong then why do you need to see Doctor Brinkley?"  

Rose gaze wavered slightly. She opened her mouth but before she could speak the sound of a horse approaching reached their ears. "Marston!" Rose exclaimed.  

Langley knew it wasn't safe for her to just run out of the cabin without ensuring it was indeed Marston but before he could shout a warning the woman was gone.  

Langley sprang from the table and followed after her just in time to see Marston slip from Buck's back and take off at a sprint to meet his mama halfway.  

Rose couldn't believe her eyes and her heart soared as she jumped into the familiar pair of strong arms. She breathed in Marston's scent and clung to him with fierce desperation as tears slipped down her cheeks.  

"God, how I've missed you," Marston growled gruffly against her hair.  

"I've missed you more," she vowed and his hold on her tightened.  

"I wasn't sure you'd want to see me again," Marston admitted.  

Rose pulled away just far enough to look up at his face. She stared into the golden depths of his eyes, laid her hand on his stubble covered cheek and offered her softest smile. "Of course I wanted you to come home."  

Marston smiled and kissed her soundly. "Is the business done?" she whispered breathlessly after he'd released her lips.  

Marston smoothed her hair from her face. "Yes, it's done." His eyes narrowed. "You haven't been sleeping."  

"No, I haven't," Rose agreed, knowing that arguing would be pointless.  

"You haven't been eating either," he accused.  

"No... I've.. I've been sick to my stomach." She bit her lip. "There's something we need to talk about..."  

"Pa?" Langley's voice came from the porch and reminded Rose that they weren't the only two people in the world.  

"What is it Langley?" Marston replied, his worried gaze not leaving Rose's face.  

"Who is she?"  

Rose followed Langley's gaze and saw the young girl sitting atop buck. She was skinny, pale, had a scabbed cut on her cheek and appeared frightened and skittish as she watched them closely.  

"Yes, who is she?" Rose questioned.  

Marston stepped away from Rose and went to Buck. He took the girl by the waist and lifted her from the horses back before setting her on her feet beside him. "Her name is Kaitlyn," he replied. "She'll be staying with us now."  

Rose swallowed hard. "Where did you find her?" she whispered, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.  

Marston's voice was tight. "At Gilliam's."  

Rose and Kaitlyn's eye met and each felt an instant moment of kinship—of similarity born from a common past. Rose stepped forward, dropped to her knee and wrapped her in a warm motherly embrace. Kaitlyn stiffened momentarily but managed to raise one arm and pat Rose's back.  

"Kaitlyn?" Marston said once Rose was standing once again. The girl looked up at him questioningly. "This is my wife Rose. She's the lady I was telling you about. Gilliam adopted her too."  

Rose smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Kaitlyn."  

"Hi Kaitlyn!" Langley bounced off the porch, clearly having come to the end of his patience sitting quietly. "My name is Langley."

Marston tousled Langley's red hair. "Langley, why don't you take Kaitlyn to the barn and get Buck all settled in. He's wore out."  

Langley nodded. "Okay pa. It sure is good to have you back. We've missed you something awful."  

"I missed you too, kid," Marston replied.  

Langley led a wary Kaitlyn away to the barn, his mouth running a mile a minute in true Langley fashion.  

"Marston..." Rose whispered, letting the relief of his presence wash over her.  

Marston pulled her into his arms again and held her tight. "It's okay, Rose. I'm back. I told you I would be."  

"I'm not stupid, Marston. I knew you could get killed going after Gilliam. He has been living that kind of life for a lot of years and he could have killed you just as easily as he had countless other men."  

Marston feigned insult. "That hurts. Gilliam wasn't any threat to me. He only likes to hit little girls."  

"Does she have family?" Rose asked, tilting her head toward the barn. She didn't loosen her hold on Marston—she was afraid that if she let go of him he would disappear right before her eyes.  

"No," Marston replied. "Gilliam took her out of the orphanage. I told her she can live with us... Are you okay with that?"  

"Of course that's fine," Rose assured him. "That poor girl. How old is she?"  

Marston let out a slow, even breath as he gazed down at her. "Eleven."  

Rose hissed in a breath through her teeth. "That bastard!"  

Marston shrugged. "Well, he's a dead bastard now and the almighty is sorting him out." Marston kissed her brow. "I'm sorry it took longer than I thought it would for me to get back. Kaitlyn was in bad shape when I found her and needed a few days to rest."  

Rose shivered. "I understand."

Anger flashed in Marston's gold eyes and she saw him close those eyes and take a deep steadying breath before stooping low and pressing a kiss to her forehead that was so achingly tender it made her heart hurt.  

"I love you, Marston. Please don't leave us again to go chasing vengeance."  

Marston nodded. "I'll never leave again. Strange how I lived my entire life without needing anyone and never being tied down.. since I met you and Langley, there is nowhere else I want to be other than right here and I need you both... I need you like air."  

Rose stood there in his arms a moment longer and then her stomach rolled and reminded her that they needed to talk. "Can we go in and talk?" she asked, her teeth grazing her bottom lip.  

Marston frowned and led her inside. As she sat at the table he removed his rifle and gun belt and put them both by the door. He grabbed a biscuit from the counter and sat down across from her. "What's wrong?" he asked.  

Rose clasped her hands and stared down at the table top, chewing her lip furiously. Marston simply munched his biscuit and waited patiently for her to speak. Patience wasn't normally his strongest attribute but just now he was too thankful to be home to be short tempered.  

"It's nothing 

wrong exactly,“ she muttered before falling silent again.

Marston frowned. "Rose, what is it? I can tell you haven't been sleeping or eating much..." His heart froze. "Are you sick?"  

Rose shook her head quickly. "No. No, I'm not sick. I've just been very worried about you, that's all."  

Marston leaned back in his chair. "Is this a guilt trip? Because I hardly ever bother with that emotion."  

Rose's nostrils flared as she whooshed out a breath and finally looked up at his face. "No, it's not a guilt trip. Marston, you've been.. you've been a wonderful father to Langley. And, well, it's clear that Kaitlyn already adores you..." Her voice trailed off as if she couldn't quite figure out how to continue.  

Marston brushed biscuit crumbs from his chest and leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. "Is this about Kaitlyn being here? I know it'll be crowded for a while but we can add a room on over the summer."  

"I know that," Rose waved her hand. "I'm not worried about space."  

Marston felt his patience waning. "What is it then?" he snapped. "I'm tired and don't want to waste energy beating around the bush."  

Rose's eyes filled with tears. Marston confusion tripled. He reached across the table and took her hands. "Rose, honey, tell me what's wrong.. I can't fix it if you don't talk to me."  

"There's nothing you can fix," Rose sniffed. "I just don't know how you're going to feel..."  

"Well to figure that out, you'll have to tell me what's wrong."  

"I've just.. I've been thinking a lot about babies..."  

"Babies?" Marston grimaced. "Why in the hell are you thinking about babies?"  

"No reason.." she squeaked before leaping from her chair and rushing into their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her.  

Marston stared at her empty chair with shock.  

"What's wrong with mama?" Langley asked as he and Kaitlyn entered the cabin.  

"Those damn mood swings she's so good at," Marston grumbled as he tossed his half eaten biscuit into the scrap bucket. "Do you know what might be wrong with her?" he demanded.  

"No," Langley shook his head but his attention was on Kaitlyn as the girl glanced around the cabin, taking it all in. "She's just been real tired since you've been gone and she's always saying her stomach is upset. Sometime she just stares out the window with her hand on her belly and doesn't say a word. You know, normal confusing woman stuff."  

Suddenly the pieces tumbled into place and Marston fell down hard in the kitchen chair nearly collapsing the poor thing with his sudden weight. "Shit..." he grumbled.  

Langley and Kaitlyn merely shrugged and Langley went about showing her where his room was and talking about storybooks.  

Marston's mind wasn't on them. It was on Rose... and the child that must be growing inside of her. His child. Was he ready for a baby?

Hell no.  

He wasn't ready for something so small, fragile and innocent. Surely a man like him would only hurt, damage or possibly kill the little thing!  

‘If we’re going to have a pity party, can we at least get some whiskey?’ that voice in his head, which had been dormant for a long time spoke up.

Marston glowered. He most certainly was 

not having a pity part.

‘Yes you are,’ the voice countered. ‘You knew how babies were made when you laid with Rose and you didn’t do a thing to prevent it.’

Marston wanted to tell the voice to go to hell but how could he when it was right? He had known what spending himself inside of Rose could cause and yet he’d done it anyway. Dammit, he just lost all control when it came to that woman.

"I'm going for a walk," Marston grumbled, getting slowly to his feet.  

"But you just got back!" Langley countered, poking his head out of his room.  

Marston nodded. "I'll only be a few minutes." He needed a bit of time to himself to think.  

---

Rose saw Marston leave through her bedroom window and he disappeared into the woods. She folded her body upon the bed and cried. Normally, Rose did not cry so easily but her emotions had been all over the map in the last few weeks. She had suspected that she was with child before Marston had left but she was certain now. Her cycle had never been late any other time and she was showing all the signs and symptoms.

Rose only wished that Marston wanted this baby. The thought that he didn't ripped her heart out and tore it to shreds. Rose had hoped that with Marston's love for Langley, he would jump at the chance to have a child of his own but she had been wrong.  

But what would she do now? What would happen if Rose told him about the baby and he took off? She knew that she 

could survive without him—she’d been living without a man for the last ten years but the truth was that Rose didn’t want to have to live without Marston.

Marston gave her something that no other person ever had. He was her best friend. Her rock. She felt safe with him. She didn't want to lose that. Suddenly her stomach rolled and Rose knew she was going to be sick.  

She leapt from the bed and fled the cabin without sparing a glance toward a shocked Langley and Kaitlyn.  

---

Marston heard the sound of someone being sick in the outhouse and knew instantly that it was Rose. Without putting much thought into what he was doing, his long legs carried him across the yard and he threw open the door.  

Rose was on her knees and she threw her hand up. "Go away!" she exclaimed, waving him off.  

"No."  

Marston took her hair gently in his hand and held it away from her face just before she lost more of her stomach. Rose let out a groan and slumped against the wall. "Please go," she whispered. "I don't want you to see me like this."  

Marston nodded and slowly backed out and closed the door. He went to the well and wet his bandana in the cool water. When he heard Rose moving around in the outhouse, Marston went back to it and opened the door.  

"Marston..." she snapped with annoyance.  

Marston just shrugged her off. He didn't much care if she was annoyed with him. Without a word, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shirt as he carried her to the gentle river and sat down cross legged with her in his lap.  

Marston gently ran the damp bandana across her heated skin and raised his brow. "Care to tell me why you locked yourself in our bedroom?"  

She flushed red and turned her gaze to the river. "I'm scared to tell you."  

Marston's heart ached. "Rose, you never have to be afraid of me."

"I'm afraid of what your reaction will be, Marston. I need you here with me... I don't want you to run away from us..."  

"That's a hell of a thing for you to say to me," Marston growled, his temper flaring. "I have done everything I can for you and for Langley. I think I've proven that I'm sticking around."  

"You have!" Rose rushed to soothe him. "I'm just not thinking clearly.. I shouldn't have said that."  

Marston saw those damned tears threatening to spring from her eyes and he felt his temper dissipate. "Then tell me what's wrong with you."  

Rose took his scarred and calloused hand and laid it over the yellow gingham fabric across her stomach. "We're going to have a baby, Marston."  

Marston couldn't think of what to say as he stared down at his hand on her stomach. He had already known that, of course, but he still had no idea how to react. "I...uh..." He felt his hand shaking so he quickly pulled it away from her stomach and clenched his fist on the grass.  

"I'm sorry you didn't want this, Marston," Rose whispered, her voice hollow. "I really am."  

Marston looked into her blue eyes and realized that just a short time ago he would have agreed that a baby wasn't something he wanted, that was no longer the case.  

To have a child with Rose.... He couldn't help but imagine what that child would be like. Would he or she have his golden eyes or Rose's red hair? Would it have his temper or Rose's caring spirit?

"What are you thinking?" Rose apprehensively inquired.  

Marston's voice was thick. "I'm wondering what he'll look like."  

A smile lit up Rose's face. "Maybe it's a girl."  

Marston was quiet a moment as he stared at the gently flowing water. "I'm scared," he admitted in a low whisper.  

Rose stared at him with shock. Marston had just admitted to being scared about something and that was not something he would easily do. "What are you scared of?"  

Marston rubbed at his neck. "I'm not pa material. I can do alright with Langley because you did most of the work before I got here and Kaitlyn is more than half grown. A baby? Rose, surely I'll mess it up for life—that is if I don't wind up holding it too hard or dropping it and killing it before it ever grows up."  

Laughter bubbled from Rose's chest and she could tell by the look in Marston's eyes that her amusement hurt his feelings so she did her best to control herself. "What the hell is so funny?" he grumbled.  

Rose covered her mouth and tried her hardest to stop laughing. She saw Marston's lip twitch. "You won't break the baby," she assured him. "You will be an amazing father and you will be loved. You are a giving, caring, truly special man and if you could only see what I see when I look at you then you wouldn't be having any doubts."  

Marston shook his head. "Why were you so afraid to tell me?" he asked, brushing off her compliments in true Marston fashion.  

"I thought that..." Rose stopped, realizing that there was no way this conversation's current path could end well.  

Marston studied her a moment. "You thought I would pack up and leave when I found out?"  

When Rose nodded meekly, Marston's entire demeanor changed. His arms grew cold around her and his golden eyes flashed with a hurt so deep it tore at Rose's heart.  

He stood swiftly and sat her on her feet, stepping back to put distance between them.  

"Marston.." Rose whispered, reaching out to put her hand on his arm.  

He jerked away from her. "If I could only see me as you see me, huh?" he hissed. "See me as what? A selfish bastard that would abandon his wife and children because he finds out there's another one on the way and he doesn't want to have to deal with it? That sounds about right, Rose. I'm glad you're finally seeing who I really am."  

"No Marston!" Rose denied vehemently.  

Marston growled. "Just stop. I don't want to hear you anymore."

He turned and stormed toward the woods. "Where are you going?" Rose demanded. "Shouldn't we talk?"  

"I think you've said all you needed to," Marston shot back without looking at her. "And I'm going wherever my good for nothing feet decide to carry me. Don't worry about it though. I'll be back when the mood strikes me."  

Rose watched him disappear with her hands clenched at her sides. She swallowed hard and willed herself not to cry.  

How had everything gone so wrong?

---

Darkness had fallen when Marston finally made his way back to the cabin. Rose had left the lamp lit on the porch and Marston had to remind himself not to be touched by the gesture.  

He killed the light and slipped inside silently. He saw Kaitlyn's sleeping form on the sofa and cursed under his breath. He was going to have to join Rose in the bed or sleep on the floor—and his back protested strongly to the latter.  

A candle burned beside the bed in their room when Marston entered and his eyes drifted over Rose who was snoring gently against her pillow with one of Langley's storybooks lying on her chest.  

Marston's body ached to hold her close but he couldn't let himself forget what she'd done to him so easily. He had done everything for her. He had changed his whole life around just for that woman and still she doubted his loyalty to their family.  

The pain that came with that knowledge was like a knife blade straight through his heart... No wonder Marston had never bothered with loving or caring before—it hurt like hell and gave another person far too much power over you.  

Marston slipped out of his boots and removed his clothes. He slid onto his side of the bed and was careful not to touch Rose as he adjusted the blanket and laid on his side, giving her his back.  

Marston's body tensed when Rose moaned and her breathing changed. She was awake. He felt the mattress shift as she moved onto her side and slid her arm around his waist, pressing her soft, bare body against him. Marston was unable to stop the tremors of pleasure that washed over him as their skin touched and that only served to irritate him more.  

He tried hard to pretend he was already asleep but knew that Rose wouldn't believe that. It took him a long time to fall asleep at night and she knew him too well.  

"I love you," she whispered, her breath warm as it teased his ear.  

Marston fought desperately to fight back the rush of heat in his blood. "You have a funny way of showing it," he mumbled.  

Rose licked her lip nervously and the tip of her tongue ran over Marston's ear causing a bolt of lightning to burst through him and nearly burn him alive. "I'm sorry," she conceded. "It's just that I hinted at how you would feel about a baby and you didn't seem open to the idea. What was I supposed to think?"  

"You sure as hell shouldn't have thought I would take off and leave," Marston snapped, his temper slamming back full force. "Dammit, Rose! I love you and I love that boy and I'll be damned if I'm not growing to love that skinny girl in there too. I love the family that we're building and the life I never thought I'd have. I would never—

never— walk out on you and, by God, you should know that by now. If you don’t then I can’t see that we have anything left to say to one another.“

"I'm sorry!" Rose practically screamed. It startled Marston to hear her use such a loud tone and it also reminded him that everyone in the house had probably heard his outburst and would now hear hers as well. "What else do you want me to say? I'm sorry. I love you. I panicked and I'm not proud of my own worries and fears, but dammit, a person can't control what they're afraid of. And I'm terrified. I'm terrified that one day I'm going to wake up and realize you were only a dream and I'll be alone again... I'm terrified that I'll once again be going without food to see that my son eats, that my clothes will be falling apart so he can have shoes for the winter. I'm scared that bankers will once again be breathing down my neck and threatening to take my home and make my son homeless. Can't you understand that, Marston? Do you know what's like to be terrified?"  

Marston tried hard to fight the sympathy he could feel welling up inside him. He tried to fight back the understanding. He wanted to be angry with her. She deserved his anger. But then she sniffed and laid her tear soaked face against his bare back and Marston felt every last bit of his defenses crumble.  

He flipped over and pulled Rose into his arms, letting himself feel every inch of her skin and breathe in the scent of her. "I don't want to fight with you. You and those children are my whole world. I have nothing other than you. Can't you see that?"  

Rose stared at his chest. "I love you.. I'm sorry."  

Marston grumbled and put his finger under her chin to tilt her head up and bring her gaze to his. "Stop apologizing. Like you said, we all have fears and we can't control what they are. I'll just have to spend the rest of my life proving your fear is unfounded."  

Marston covered her mouth with his own and slid his tongue along her bottom lip, urging her lips apart so he could taste her. As his blood heated and her hands clutched at his back, Marston had a sudden thought and pulled away.  

"If I make love to you, will it hurt the baby?"  

Rose laughed lightly, her blue eyes dancing. "No, you won't hurt the baby."  

Marston winked. "Good," he replied before spending the rest of the night showing her exactly how devoted he was to her happiness.

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Sheriff Andrew Tate removed his hat as he walked into the doctor’s home. The doctor’s plump wife led him into a back room and he tipped his hat to the woman as she bustled back out.

Sheriff Tate's eyes went to the back corner of the room to a man lying asleep upon the bed. He was bare from the waist up and his chest was wrapped in white bandages.   

Sheriff Tate cleared his throat to wake the man and his eye flew open only to narrow instantly. "Who are you?" His voice was hoarse and fatigued.  

The lawman flashed his badge. "I'm Sheriff Andrew Tate and I hear you wanted to speak to the lawman in town."  

The man nodded, his expression becoming predatory. He slowly pushed himself up against the wall. "Yes, I did. My name is Vincent and I was senselessly attacked. I figured a lawman would take an interest in that."  

The sheriff nodded. "Can I ask who did this to you?"  

A name left Vincent's lips like a curse. "Marston Jacobs."  

Andrew Tate didn't recognize the name but he was a relatively new lawman and hadn't lived in these parts long. He was desperate to build up his reputation so maybe this was the chance he needed. "And what exactly prompted this attack, Vincent?"  

Vincent feebly reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and Nathan quickly moved forward and took it in his hand, holding it to the injured man's mouth.  

"Thank you," Vincent said once he'd drank his fill. "I was visiting with my friend and his daughter when Marston barged in and attacked us. He shot me and left me for dead before killing Gilliam and kidnapping the girl."  

Sheriff Tate nodded. "And why would he do that?"  

Vincent scoffed. "Because he's unstable! He is a murdering lunatic and he wanted that girl for his own. Sick bastard."  

Sheriff Tate fumbled with the folder under his arm and thumbed through the papers inside. "So would you say he's been in trouble before?"  

"I know for a fact he has," Vincent agreed.  

"I have numerous wanted posters here that are nameless. Do you think you could help me see if Marston Jacob's is among them?"  

"If he's in that stack, you won't know it. The giant of a man is always bragging about how his poster doesn't look a thing like him."  

"Maybe you could help us with that?" Sheriff Tate inquired as he shoved the folder back under his arm.  

That predatory gleam in Vincent's eyes grew brighter. "I'd be more than happy too."  

Sheriff Tate rushed to get someone to sketch the poster and when they were done he stared down at Marston Jacob's face. Sharp angles, cold eyes and a circular scar on his cheek.  

"Any other distinguishing characteristics we should know about?" Sheriff Tate asked.  

Vincent tapped his chin. "His eyes. They aren't a color you see often. They're gold. And he's damn near seven foot tall and real strong. Brown hair and dark skin."  

Sheriff Tate nodded gratefully and shook the man's hand. "I thank you for your assistance, sir. We'll do our best to bring the man who did this to justice."  

Vincent laid back flat upon the bed. "Lawman, can I ask a favor?"  

Sheriff Tate paused in the doorway. "What is it you need?"  

Vincent let out a long, pained sigh. "If you find Marston could you bring his little girl to me? She doesn't have any kin other than him but I was like an uncle to that girl. She's got to be scared out of her wits with that outlaw."  

Sheriff Andrew Tate nodded, hate for Marston Jacobs burning in his gut. He couldn't stand the thought of any man hurting a child. "I will make sure that's included in his file."  

That night, Sheriff Tate held multiple copies of Marston Jacob's poster in his hand. Dead or Alive was written at the top and the man had a five thousand dollar bounty on his head given the severity of his most recent crime and his long history of lawlessness.  

These posters would be sent to every lawman for hundreds of miles. Marston Jacob's days as a free man would soon be coming to an end.  

---

"Marston, don't you think it might be a little early to buy things for the baby?" Rose asked as the family rode together on the cart toward town.  

Marston shook his head. "Nope." He took her hand in his and slipped his fingers between hers. "It took a few days to warm up to the idea of having a baby around but it's grown on me now and I want to make sure everything is ready."  

"I still can't believe I'm gonna be a big brother!" Langley spoke excitedly from the back. "This is great! I'm gonna make sure me and my brother or sister don't go around shooting each other though."  

Kaitlyn smiled as she folded her hands in her lap but she said nothing. The girl hardly ever had a word to say but Marston figured that was a good thing. Langley spoke enough for everyone.

Rose's mind was clearly still on the list he'd made. "Yes, but we don't need all this yet. Why don't we just get...."  

"Stop," Marston growled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "We're gonna order the lumber to expand the cabin and we're going to order yellow, white, light green, pink, light blue and light purple fabrics. That way we'll know we have good colors if it's a boy or girl." Marston shrugged. "And whatever we don't need we'll just save for the next one."  

Rose's blue eyes widened and her cheeks flamed red. "The next one?" she gasped.  

Marston flashed a wicked grin. "Yep. I told you I was warming up to the idea."  

Out of the corner of his eyes, Marston saw Kaitlyn raise her hand tentatively in the back of the wagon. He sighed. The girl always raised her hand when she wanted to speak. It was a habit she'd picked up in that orphanage and it wore on Marston's nerves. "Kaitlyn, you don't have to raise your hand when you want to speak," Marston assured her for at least the hundredth time. "If you've got something you want to say then speak up and say it—but say it loud or Langley might end up talking right over you."  

Her hand dropped. "Okay pa." Marston couldn't help but grin with pride at hearing the word pa. Kaitlyn smoothed her skirt. "I was hoping I could purchase a few things today. I know I don't have any money but I'd be willing to take a few jobs on to earn it..."  

"I don't think you will," Rose snapped, clearly offended that the girl would even think such a thing. "You are part of this family, Kaitlyn, and we'll make sure you're taken care of. You can get whatever you want today. A young girl should have plenty of clothes, toys, pretty bonnets—anything you want. You have a rich pa," Rose winked. "He can afford it."  

Marston grumbled and flicked the reins. "I guess we better stop after the nugget is born because if you keep carrying on like that I'll have to open two gun shops."  

---

"Well, what do we have here?" Hester sneered as Marston, Rose and the children stepped into the H&H Mercantile. "It's the great Marston Jacob's and his little family." Hester sniffed through her hooked nose. "Tell me. Are you still living in sin?"  

Marston instantly felt his temper spark but he planted that false grin on his face and stepped up to the counter. "I think that our sins are the last thing you need to be worrying about, Hester. Especially seeing as how you commit quite a few of your own."  

Hester puffed out her scrawny chest. "I'll have you know that I am the head of the church committee here in town."  

"And that'd be exactly why I don't attend the local church," Marston noted. "I don't want to be within striking range when the Almighty sends that lightning bolt down to strike you dead."  

"How dare you!" Hester exclaimed. She swung out her hand and Marston dodged just in time to avoid being slapped in the face.  

Rose gasped and shot forward when Marston's face contorted with rage. She clutched at his arm when he reached across the counter but she was nowhere near strong enough to keep him from grabbing hold of Hester by the front of her lace trimmed dress.  

"Do not 

ever try to lay your hands on me again,“ he hissed. “It’s no secret that you don’t like me and it’s even more well known that I don’t like you but I tolerate you anyhow. But if you try to hit me again, that ends, and I show you why there are a hell of a lot of people that are scared to death of me.”

Rose gave Marston a tug, though she might as well have tugged a house for all the good it did her. "Marston, let go of her," she warned, not for Hester's benefit but for Marston'. She didn't want to see him in trouble because of that horrible woman.  

Marston very slowly did just that and took a step back. "Go ahead and do your shopping, Rose, and I'll wait outside. If I stay in here much longer, I'm going to 

kill something,“ he growled before striding out the door with his fists clenched.

Rose threw a shaky smile toward Langley and Kaitlyn to reassure them everything was fine before turning her attention to Hester. The bird-faced woman was stuttering, stammering and seemed unable to pull herself together as her entire body trembled.  

"I'll take care of this, Hester," Hattie said gently as she waddled over. "Why don't you go to the back and take a rest?"  

Hester nodded and her stiff legs carried her to the backroom and finally out the back door so she could breathe in a bit of fresh air. Never in her life had she been so afraid! Marston Jacobs had seemed fully prepared to kill her and he very may well have if Rose hadn't been there.  

Her shaking worsened under her entire body was under attack and Hester decided to go visit Doctor Brinkley and get something to calm her nerves and ease her head.  

The doctor was quick to give her the medication she needed and then he asked her to wait a moment before leaving. He returned with an envelope and placed it in her hand. "This arrived for you this morning."  

Hester wondered what it could possibly be. "Thank you," she said distractedly before stepping onto the porch and sitting down in the white rocking chair.  

She opened the envelope and was surprised to find a letter from the Marshal in Millerton. Folded up with the letter was a wanted poster and the name and picture that graced it had Hester nearly crying out.  

Wanted Dead or Alive: Marston Jacobs. Thief, Kidnapper and Cold-blooded Murderer. $5,000 bounty!

Hester's lips trembled and her mouth watered. She could become a woman with wealth beyond her wildest dreams and get rid of Marston all at the same time! No more worrying with that troublesome store and no more outlaws gracing her doorsteps. With any luck even Rose and those brats would move away once Marston was no longer around to protect them.  

Hester rushed back into the doctor's home and shoved the letter in his face. "What is that?" he asked patiently as he closed the medical book he'd been reading at his desk.  

"We need to send a return wire to the Marshall," Hester stated, her chest swelling with vengeful pride. "It seems Marston Jacobs is a wanted man."  

The doctor's eyes finally focused on the poster in Hester's hand and he let out a low whistle. "Well I'll be damned."  

---

"You can't be losing your temper like that with her, Marston," Rose scolded sternly as they lay together in bed that night.  

Marston grumbled under his breath. "She needs to know who she's messing with. I won't tolerate anyone trying to lay hands on or insult this family."  

"You're too protective," Rose noted with a grumble of her own.

Marston snorted and held her tighter. "You can't be too protective when it comes to your family."  

Rose kissed his chest. "I just don't want you to do anything that causes me to lose you."  

Marston sighed. His cheek rested on her red curls. "I'm a different man these days, Rose. No one knows who Marston Jacobs is. No one knows I'm the man who used to do the things I did. No one is going to take me away from you. You're stuck with me whether you want to be or not."  

"Lucky me," Rose replied dryly. Marston tickled her side and she squealed with laughter. "No fair!" she accused.  

"Why not?"  

Rose frowned. "Because you're not ticklish. A man with no weaknesses can't go around picking on others."  

"I don't pick on you." Marston poked her nose. "And besides, I do have a weakness, love. A very big weakness."  

Hunger filled Marston's golden eyes and Rose felt her own blood heat. "Is that right?"  

Marston's mouth lowered until their breath mingled and Rose's eyes slipped closed. "Yes ma'am," he whispered and then he was devouring her.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

    “I have to head on into town and get some work done at the shop today,” Marston stated unenthusiastically as came out of the bedroom. 

    Rose and Kaitlyn were cooking breakfast together while Langley read a book at the table. He looked up. “Can I come with you?” 

    “Sure.” Marston smiled. “It’ll be good for you to learn how to gunsmith so you can help your old pa and I won’t have to do everything.” 

    Langley laughed. “You’re not that old!” 

    Marston shook his head. “You hear that, Rose? I’m not that old.” 

    “Hmmm,” was her only reply. Marston glanced her way and noticed that she was staring out the window and had one hand resting on her stomach as she seemed to be lost in thought. 

    Marston went to her and wrapped her up tight in his arms, pulling her back in tight to his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

    She forced a smile and turned her head to kiss his cheek. “Nothing.” 

    Marston growled. “Don’t lie to me. I know you too well to fall for it.” 

    Rose sighed. “I just have a bad feeling.” 

    “What kind of feeling?” 

    Rose’s shoulders heaved with a shrug. “That something bad is going to happen.” 

    Marston nuzzled her neck. “What exactly?”

    Rose squirmed in an attempt to get away from him. “I don’t know.” 

    His chuckles were muffled in her hair. “Then it’s not a very helpful feeling, is it?” 

    Rose sighed. “No, I suppose it isn’t. Just be careful when you go into town today, okay?” 

    “Yes ma’am,” Marston conceded. He splayed his calloused fingers over her stomach. “I can’t wait until I can feel him move.” 

    Rose smiled as she laid her soft hand over his. “You still have a while to wait.” 

    “I’ll have to learn to be patient,” Marston grumbled. He kissed her temple and moved away from her. “Come on, Langley. We’ll go out and take care of the critters and hopefully by the time we’re done the womenfolk will have us men something to eat.” 

    “Of course your highness,” Rose teased with a roll of her eyes. 

    “I prefer your majesty,” Marston countered. 

    “Then you should teach the pigs to talk,” Kaitlyn chimed in with a giggle. 

     Marston’s eyes widened in her direction before narrowing as he grumbled under his breath and left the cabin with Langley on his heels. 

    Kaitlyn watched him go and chewed her lip. “Did I make him angry?”

    “No,” Rose assured her gently as she pulled the biscuits from the oven. “He walks off whenever he can’t think of anything witty to say. It hurts his pride.” 

    Kaitlyn sat the platter of bacon and ham on the table and wiped her hands on her apron. “I want to thank you both for giving me a home.” 

    Rose smiled as she poured a jar of canned apples into a pot with brown sugar and placed it on the cook stove. “You don’t have to thank us, Kaitlyn. We’re a family.” 

    “I’ve never had a family,” the girl admitted, tucking a loose strand of her golden hair behind her ear. “My parents died when I was a baby and I was in that orphanage until Gilliam adopted me nearly a year ago.” 

    Rose shivered. “I’m sorry he got his hands on you.” 

    “It could have been worse,” Kaitlyn replied, her green eyes haunted. “He only had me for a year… he had you much longer.” 

    They both fell silent. Rose swallowed hard against the memories. It was so easy to forget that Kaitlyn was only eleven years hold. Her life, both in the orphanage and with Gilliam, had aged her soul drastically. 

    Rose shook off the bad thoughts and offered a smile. “Well let’s get this breakfast finished so that His Highness can have something to fill his stomach.” 

    Kaitlyn smiled in return. “Pa does get awfully grumpy when he’s hungry.” 

    Rose laughed. “Yes he does.” 

---

   

    Marston watched out of the corner of his eyes as Langley grunted to lift a full bucket of water. The boy’s eyes widened as he realized he couldn’t and then he fell backward and water soaked his clothes. 

    Marston’s laughter rang out. “It’s not funny, pa!” Langley snapped grumpily. “Now I’m all wet!” 

    His whining only made Marston laugh harder. He held out his hand and helped the boy to his feet. “That’s why it’s funny,” Marston assured him. 

    Langley glared up at him and scooped the bucket up. “I guess I better go fill it up again.” 

    Marston was still chuckling to himself after Langley had left the barn and he went about raking the wet hay. 

    He heard a rumble in the distance and for a moment, Marston thought perhaps the weather was going to turn but then the rumbling grew loud. Hoof beats. Thundering hoof beats were heading for the cabin. 

    Langley’s scream filled the air. “Paaa!”

    Marston threw the rake, pulled his revolver and ran from the barn. He saw the men on horseback and saw the glint of metal on their chests. 

    Lawmen. 

    Everything within Marston, every instinct he’d spent his life honing, told him to make a run for it. But he couldn’t. Marston had a family now. 

    These men looked like they meant trouble and they were riding, guns drawn, toward the people he loved. Marston had avoided capture a hundred times before when he’d only had himself to worry about—he wouldn’t be getting away today.

    Marston snaked his arm around Langley’s waist and hoisted the boy off his feet. He leaped over the porch steps and slipped inside, slamming and locking the door behind him. 

    “What’s going on?” Rose demanded, wiping her hands on her apron. 

    Marston simply shook his head, took Kaitlyn’s hand and shoved both her and a stammering Langley into the water closet. “You both stay in here, understood?” he demanded, his voice rough with fear. The children stared at him with wide eyes and pale faces but they nodded. “Rose, you get in there too,” he added. 

    “I don’t think so,” she replied stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. Marston sighed. He hadn’t thought she listen but he’d had to try. 

    Marston turned his attention back to his children and felt his throat tighten. “Langley, Kaitlyn, you both listen to your mama and mind her, you hear?” 

    “What’s going on, pa?” Langley whispered, clutching at Kaitlyn’s hand held firmly in his. 

    Marston forced a smile. “Justice I suppose.” 

    He closed the door, knowing he’d just gazed upon his children for the last time and he wasted no time in pulling the large cabinet in front of it. He knew the children could always leave the room through the small window at the back but he wanted plenty of wood between them and bullets should they start flying. 

    “Marston, what’s going on?” Rose demanded as those hoof beats came to a stop outside the cabin and silence reigned. 

    “Rose…” Marston shook his head and took her shaking hands in his. “I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry that your fears are going to become reality.” His eyes burned and Marston felt warm droplets sliding down his cheeks. “I let you down…” he croaked. 

    Marston had no idea what to say. How did you say goodbye to a very piece of yourself? How did you tell the love of your life that you were going to die? Because Marston had no doubt that he was going to die….

    He’d always said that if escape was impossible, he’d go down in a blaze of glory. He’d said he’d meet the law head on and take down as many of the bastards as he could before they killed him. Now? Now he could only hope they’d arrest him and take him away from here to swing from a gallows. He didn’t want Rose to have to watch him die. 

    Rose clutched at his fingers, her grip so tight that it hurt him though he didn’t say a word. “Marston, tell me who’s out there.” 

    Marston pulled one hand free of her grip and laid it on her soft cheek, damp with tears of her own. “It’s the law, love. They’ve come for me.” 

    Rose’s entire body tensed, her face lost all color and her eyes grew wild. “No! They can’t!” she all but screamed as she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. “They can’t take you from me, Marston. I need you!”

    Marston’s chest ached as he hugged her with desperation and soaked in the warmth of her soft body against his. He put his finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him. He took the time to memorize every shade of blue in her eyes so he could take the memory with him. 

    “You’re a good man now, Marston…” Rose whispered. “How did they find you?” 

    Marston smoothed her hair from her cheek. “I don’t know, love. It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you know how much I love you.” 

    Rose broke down in heart wrenching sobs as she clung to him. Marston held her tight a moment before pulled her face up and swooping low to press a tender kiss to her tear soaked lips. Then he knelt and pressed another kiss to her stomach and the life growing there, knowing her apron would be damp with his tears. 

    Marston stood straight and squared his shoulders. “Take care of yourself, Rose, and take care of the children.”

    Somehow Rose managed to nod. 

    “Marston Jacobs!” a voice bellowed from outside. “This is United States Marshall Hubert Montgomery! We’ve come to take you in dead or alive!” 

    Marston turned his back to Rose. “I’m coming out and I’m coming willingly!” Marston called back. “Don’t you shoot! My wife and kids are in here!” 

    “Come out with your hands high then!” 

    “I have to go now, Rose,” Marston whispered, swiping at the tears he wished desperately he could turn off. 

    Rose came around him and laid her hand on his wet cheek. She came up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, knowing it would be the last time she ever felt his firm mouth against her own. 

    “Please tell me you know how much I love you,” Marston pleaded, his golden eyes searching hers. 

    “I know,” she whispered hoarsely. 

    Marston pressed a kiss to her hair. “Be strong for me, Rose. Take care of our family and make sure they know how much their pa loved them.” 

    Rose nodded. She would be strong if he asked it of her. It would damn near kill her but somehow she would keep herself together for Marston—for their children. 

    Marston walked to the door and unlocked it. He took a deep breath before opening it wide and raising his arms. Much to his irritation, he realized that Rose was coming out behind him. Her hands were gripping the back of his shirt as if she thought she could stop the hands of fate simply by touching him. 

    “Put your hands up too!” the Marshall warned, his gun trained on Rose. 

    Marston’s blood boiled as he twisted and placed himself between Rose and the Marshall’s gun. “She ain’t got nothing to do with this so kindly take your gun off my wife.” 

    The Marshall nodded and motioned toward Marston’s revolver. “I need you to take off your gun belt and toss it to the side along with any other weapons you might have.” 

    “Give me your word that you won’t harm my family and I’ll toss every weapon aside and ride out of here without a fight.” Marston wasn’t sure this man’s word would count for much but it was all Marston had to keep his family safe. 

    “A cold blooded outlaw wants to keep his family safe?” a deputy asked. “What about all the families you have destroyed?” 

    Marston growled and squared his shoulders. “Leave him alone, Harold,” Marshall Montgomery warned. 

    Marston glared at the Marshall. “Give me your word, Marshall, because I can guarantee that I can get at least one bullet in you before you and your men take me down.” 

    Rose gasped behind him but Marston ignored her. He had to turn off that side of himself. He had to become the cold outlaw once more or he’d turn into a blubbering mess in front of these lawmen and that could prove fatal for those he loved. 

    “You have my word,” the Marshall agreed. “Your family will not be harmed, you’ll be taken to Millerton, jailed until next Saturday and then hanged by the neck until dead.” 

    Marston nodded and yanked himself from Rose’s vice-like grip. He pulled off his gun belt and removed his knives before stepping forward with his wrists together. “Tie him,” Marshall Montgomery gave the order. 

    Two deputies dismounted their horses and walked to Marston. One held him at gunpoint while the other tied the rope around his wrists. The deputy holding him at gunpoint was little more than a boy and trembling so badly Marston doubted he’d be able to hit him with a bullet even point blank range. 

    Marston stared down his nose at the frightened deputy and smiled. This nearly caused the gun to tumble from his hand as he yelped and then swallowed hard. 

    Rose watched as Marston was led to a horse, allowed to mount and then the rope attached to his wrists was tied to the Marshall’s saddle horn. It simply didn’t seem right to have the strong man being taken away so easily. Rose was forced to watch the tall, proud man be led away like a horse to slaughter simply because he wanted to keep his family safe. 

    “Marston Jacobs,” the Marshall spoke. “You are under arrests for countless robberies, kidnappings and murders. The most recent being the murder of Gilliam Montgomery only a few short weeks ago. The judge has already signed off on your execution, it seems you’ve been at this awhile. You are now the property of the state of Louisiana.” 

    “Well isn’t that special?” Marston drawled. 

    “Marston!” Rose exclaimed as they began to lead him away. “Marston, I love you and I have faith in the man you are now! I’ll see you again…. Someday.” 

    Rose had no doubts that Marston would reunite with her in heaven… He had to make it there. Rose knew he had been a bad man in the past but he had changed and only a truly good man could have opened his heart to children who weren’t his as willingly and fully as Marston had. 

    Marston didn’t reply and didn’t look back at her. Rose stood there watching long after they’d ridden out of sight. The morning had suddenly gone silent. It was shocking how calm everything had become. 

    Finally Rose turned and walked on stiff legs back into the house, holding her arms over her stomach as if hoping she could shield her unborn child from the pain she was feeling.    

    Rose pushed the cabinet away from the water closet and opened the door. Langley and Kaitlyn both leapt into her embrace and the three tumbled to the floor, clutching at one another with desperation. 

    “Is it true, mama?” Langley’s words nearly strangled in his throat. “Did pa really do such bad things?” 

    “Yes,” Rose whispered. “He did. But Marston changed and that’s what we need to remember. We know the man he truly was deep down and that man was good.” 

    “Are they really going to kill him?” Kaitlyn whispered. 

Rose took a deep breath to fight off the pain raging through her. Pain that had wanting to scream at the top of her lungs and shout about the unfairness of it all. 

“Yes,” she somehow managed to say. “But he wanted us to be strong and we’re going to do that for him. God gave us a great gift when He gave us Marston and we’re not going to waste that by breaking down now.” 

“Yes ma’am,” the children said in unison. 

None of them tried to stand as they simply lay there all wrapped up together. Movement seemed unimportant just then and no one had any urge to be strong just then. 

---

    Marston carefully studied the five men around him. 

    He could get free. 

    The deputy on his left was close enough for Marston to land a swift kick to his head. He could then swing himself onto the Marshall’s horse, send the Marshall’s knife into the second deputy and use the Marshall’s gun to take out the third and fourth deputies as well as the Marshall. The entire process would take less than sixty seconds. 

    But that would be pointless. Marston Jacobs was known now. Known and wanted dead or alive. Killing lawmen would only make the target on his back bigger. If he killed them he couldn’t return to his family without putting them in terrible danger and that simply wasn’t something Marston was willing to do. If laying down and dying was what it took to keep them safe then that’s exactly what Marston intended to do. 

    “I can see where your mind is going, Marston,” Marshall Montgomery warned. 

    Marston shook his head. “I doubt that.” 

    He hated the man riding beside him. Hubert Montgomery—Gilliam Montgomery’s brother and the main reason that Gilliam was able to get by with everything he’d been doing for years and years. 

    The lawman was as dirty and crooked as they come and wouldn’t be fooling with arresting Marston now if it hadn’t been for Marston killing Gilliam—Marston wondered how they’d figured out he’d been the one to commit that murder….

    He supposed it didn’t matter now. 

    Marshall Montgomery tipped his head. “Still, I feel the need to warn you that should you raise a finger to escape, every officer here has been ordered to not only kill you, but turn around, go back to that shack of a cabin and put a bullet in every person there. Understood?” 

    The rage coursing through Marston’s veins was a palpable thing. “We’re understood, Marshall.” 

    Marshall Montgomery chuckled. “I must admit it’ll be fun to watch your body twitch as it sways back and forth. My brother will be waiting for you on the other side to repay the favor you gave him and outlaws far and wide will fear me for being the man that took down Marston Jacobs.” 

    Marston chose to ignore the lawman’s goading. Instead he focused on last night and the way he had held Rose’s soft body in his arms. The memory was nearly enough to do away with his fear.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

    It was late. Three days had passed since Rose’s life had come crashing down around her. She was sitting on the porch, staring out at the moonlit forest, unable to force herself into the bed she had shared with Marston—she hadn’t touched that bed since he’d been taken away. Rose didn’t want to face the memories she’d have if she laid down where they’d made love so many times—but she was also worried that if she allowed herself to lay in a bed, she would never find it within herself to get back up. 

    A horse snorted, signaling someone’s approach. Rose took up Marston’s revolver and stood slowly. “Whoever is coming better speak now or I’ll shoot and leave you laying.” 

    That threat, coming from Rose, would have been an empty one not long ago but it wasn’t empty any longer. Marston had taught her that when it came to protecting those you loved, anything went. She had promised the man she would keep their children safe and she intended to keep that promise. 

    “Woohoo! That’d be the first time I’d been shot to death by a pretty woman,” Jeremiah’s voice came through the night just as the shadow of him and his horse entered her line of vision. “Do you reckon you would nurse me back to health afterward?”

    Duke snorted. “That’d be pretty hard to do if you’re dead.” 

    Rose lifted the lantern beside her and both men stopped their horses and dismounted slowly, sharing looks of confusion. “Why exactly are you out here in the middle of the night alone?” Jeremiah asked. 

    “Where’s Marston?” Duke added, recognizing the revolver in Rose’s hand. 

    Rose broke down. The stress of the last few days became too much to bear. She hadn’t had a break down since Marston had gone but no one could be strong forever. 

    Jeremiah and Duke shared a look of horror, neither experienced at handling sobbing women. Duke saw Rose’s knees buckling and he leapt forward and caught her against his chest. He took the lantern from her trembling hand as she whimpered, sniffed and hiccupped against his shirt. 

    “Rose honey?” Duke asked, rubbing her back to comfort her the best he could. “Where’s Marston?” 

    Rose took huge, gulping breaths attempting to calm herself. “They….they took.. him.” 

    “Who took him?” Jeremiah demanded. 

    Rose pulled away from Duke’s chest and swiped at her face. “The law.” 

    Jeremiah’s face contorted and he growled with murder in his eyes. Duke, however, seemed to soften at the word law and he put a gentle arm around Rose’s shoulders. “Come on, now. Let’s get you inside,” he ushered gently. 

    Rose nodded and allowed him to lead her inside. Jeremiah scanned the yard and then followed them inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Duke sat Rose down at the table and took a seat across from her. “What happened, Rose?” 

    Jeremiah was pacing the floor and his boots woke Kaitlyn. “What’s going on?” the girl asked as she sat up on the sofa and stared with fear in her eyes at the two men she had never before met. 

    Rose stood. “Kaitlyn, you go rest in my room, okay?” 

    Kaitlyn frowned. “But who are they? Are you they going to…” her face paled. “Are they going to hurt you?” 

    Rose shook her head and offered the most comforting smile she could muster, though she feared it was more a grimace than a grin. “They aren’t going to hurt any of us,” she assured the girl. “Jeremiah is Marston’s brother and Duke was like a father to Marston.” Rose frowned. “ Is like a father to Marston,“ she amended. Marston wasn’t dead yet. Her stomach rolled. Saturday was still five days away. 

    Rose covered her mouth with her hand as she fought the urge to vomit. Duke, knowing that Marston would want his woman taken care of, stood and took her in his arms once more to offer her what support he could. Women often found comfort in simple things such as hugs…. He had no idea why. 

    Kaitlyn stood up and walked on shaking legs to them. She laid her hand on Rose’s back and looked up into Duke’s eyes. “Will you take care of her? She tries to be so strong and hide it but she doesn’t eat and she hasn’t been sleeping and I’m worried about the baby….” 

    “Baby?!” Duke and Jeremiah gasped in unison. 

    Rose pulled out of Duke’s hold and glared at her. “I’m fine, Kaitlyn. I don’t need to be coddled or taken care of and I certainly won’t let anything happen to this baby.” She laid her hand over her stomach. “Now go to bed.” 

    Kaitlyn’s eyes filled with hurt. She turned on her heels and fled to Rose’s bedroom, closing the door behind her. 

    “You’re with child?” Jeremiah demanded, staring hard at Rose’s stomach. 

    Rose nodded but her attention wasn’t on Jeremiah. She chewed her lip with guilt as she stared at her closed bedroom door. She shouldn’t have lost her temper with Kaitlyn. The girl hadn’t meant any harm. Rose had just been holding herself together by threads for too long and now she was coming completely unraveled. 

    “Come on, Rose,” Duke urged gently as he led her back to the table and helped her sit. He filled a glass of water and sat it in front of her before taking a seat himself. Jeremiah sat as well but his legs hopped and bounced with pent up aggression. 

    “I think you need to fill us in on what’s been going on around here,” Duke urged. “And who she was,” he added, tilting his head toward the bedroom. 

    Rose sighed and stared down into her water. “Her name is Kaitlyn. Marston found her when he went after Gilliam.” 

    Duke and Jeremiah shared a glance. “Yeah, we heard about Gilliam.” 

    Rose was too distracted to hear their admission or question it. “Marston hadn’t been home long, barely more than a week, when the law rode in and took him… he didn’t even fight them…” Rose’s voice trailed off. 

     “That doesn’t sound like Marston,” Jeremiah argued. “He always swore he’d never be taken alive. He dreamed about going down in a blaze of glory like any self-respecting outlaw.” 

    Jeremiah stopped speaking and began to rub at his leg under the table while glaring at Duke and Rose had the impression that perhaps Duke had kicked him. “I’m sure Marston went willingly because he didn’t want a gunfight around his woman and kids,” Duke stated pointedly. 

    “That’s why he went…” Rose’s finger tips clutched desperately at her glass—she had to hold on to something in order to assure herself that this wasn’t just a nightmare. “We was trying to protect us…” 

    Duke laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Who came and got him?” 

    “United States Marshall Hubert Montgomery.” Rose shivered. “I’ll never forget his name.” 

    “That’s Gilliam’s damned brother!” Jeremiah exclaimed. “We should have figured he’d show up. Dammit, we should have gotten here sooner!” 

    Rose let that information digest a moment. She hadn’t known that Gilliam had had a brother that was a lawman. It would certainly explain how he’d been able to get by with his lifestyle for as long as he had. 

    Duke tapped the table. “What did the Marshall say when they took Marston?” 

    Rose fought back a fresh wave of nausea. “They’re hanging him Saturday…” 

    “Shit…” Jeremiah sniffed and Rose was certain she heard tears in his voice. Wihtout a word the man got to his feet and left the cabin. 

    Rose frowned. “Duke, why are you here? How did you know about Gilliam?” Duke seemed to be debating whether or not to answer and Rose slammed her hand on the table. “After all the hell I’ve been through, Duke, I damn sure deserve to hear the truth!” 

    Duke sighed and pulled a cigar from his pocket. He took his time lighting it before turning his gaze back to her. “Marston was sloppy when he killed Gilliam. He left a witness and that’s how they got Marston’s name and a good poster with an increased bounty. And that’s why we’re here…. Vincent Sharp was the survivor. We haven’t seen him personally but he’s got a real nasty brother and they’re talking about revenge.” 

    Rose’s eyes widened. She jumped to her feet and went to the window, pulling back the curtains and staring out into the night. “Calm down, Rose,” Duke scolded. “Jeremiah won’t let anyone sneak in. Did they say where they were taking Marston?” 

    “Millerton,” she replied, letting the curtains fall. 

    Duke stood up. “I’ll be heading that way then.”

    Rose felt the first spark of hope she’d experienced in days. She wrung her hands. “Can you save him, Duke? Can you get him away from them?” 

    Duke’s gaze dropped to the hand she had laid over her stomach and he let out a sigh. “It’s not that easy, Rose. They know who is now and his escape would put you and those children in danger. Marston won’t do that. Not to mention, Marshall Montgomery will probably be keeping a pretty close watch on Marston. Marston killed his brother and from what I hear there wasn’t anything pretty about it.” 

    “They don’t’ care about the truth,” Rose sniffed, her fists clenching at her sides. “They arrested him for killing Gilliam and for kidnapping Kaitlyn. Kidnapping her!” 

    Duke shook his head. “Hubert Montgomery is a worse monster than Marston ever thought of being even on his worst day. But since he’s wearing a badge, his is forgiven. I gotta get going now.. I feel like I should be there when they….” Duke’s voice trailed off. 

    “I should be there….” Rose whispered, knowing that she couldn’t. If she saw the man she loved die before her eyes it would destroy what little fiber of strength she was still holding onto. 

    “No you shouldn’t. Marston wouldn’t want you there and it wouldn’t be good for the babe.” Duke reached out and laid a tender hand on her stomach. “At least we’ll always have a little piece of Marston.” 

    Rose couldn’t speak. She breathed deep, fighting to stem off the tears that were building. When she felt steady enough to open her mouth without crying out she said, “What am I going to do about Vincent?” 

    “Jeremiah is going to pack you and kids up in the morning and take you up to the Dakotas. That’ll be your new home.” 

    “The Dakotas?” Rose demanded. “What’s in the Dakotas?” 

    “Jeremiah won a homestead in a card game during the time Marston rode with us after he met you. Marston acted like he wanted it but then got mad and said he didn’t. We didn’t understand his reaction back then but we understand now. Jeremiah was going to give it to Marston as a gift but now…. Now he’ll give it to you.” 

    Rose glanced around the tiny cabin that held all of the happy memories she had ever had and all her memories of Marston. “This has been home for so long..” she whispered. But Rose knew it would never be home again. 

    Duke nodded and stepped toward the door. “You’ll have a new home and you’ll be safe there. Vincent won’t find you. You really are going to be okay, Rose.” 

    Rose shook her head because she wasn’t at all sure that she would. Duke kissed her hair in a tender, nearly fatherly way, and patted her arm. “Jeremiah and I will see that you and the youngins are took care of. Now I gotta be going.” 

    Rose watched Duke leave and kept her hands over her stomach. She wanted nothing more in the world than to have her family back together but she knew that Marston wasn’t coming home. Her only hope for her children rested in Jeremiah and Duke’s ability to keep them safe from Vincent.

    Rose closed her eyes and prayed. 

---

    Langley lay in his bed with his eyes squeezed tight against his tears. He heard Uncle Duke leave and he heard his mama crying softly. 

    His pa was going to die. Langley had never seen anyone hang but one of his storybooks had pictures of a hanging and Langley couldn’t wrap his head around something like that happening to his pa. Marston had seemed so strong and indestructible!

    It wasn’t fair that they were losing him. His mama needed Marston—Langley needed his pa. Who was going to take him hunting now? Who would help patch up the cabin? What would happen with the gun shop? Who would smoke that pipe Langley had given Marston for Christmas? Who would cook watery eggs, mess up his hair and wink at inside jokes? 

    Langley’s tears broke free and streamed down his cheeks. He didn’t know what to do so he did what his mama had taught him to do when everything seemed lost; Langley prayed. 

    “Dear God, it’s me again. I want to pray about a couple of things. First I pray that You’ll let my pa figure out some way to live through this and come back to us. We all need him real bad around here. But if You can’t do that then please give my mama the strength she’ll need to carry on and give Duke and Jeremiah the strength to keep us safe from Vincent—whoever he is.” 

    Langley’s voice grew tight but he forced himself to continue as he stared up at the rough planks on the ceiling. “And Lord, I pray that if pa does die, if You decide that now is his time could You please let him into heaven? I know he’s done some bad things in his life and some things that are pretty hard to forgive but he always did right by me and mama and Kaitlyn too. Mama needs to be with him again someday and I’d sure like to see him again too and if he dies then that’ll have to be in Heaven. I know You can hear me, God, and if You just grant me that one wish, I’ll never ask You for anything again. Amen.” 

    Langley curled up beneath his covers and let his pillow dry his tears. He hear Uncle Jeremiah come inside and tell his mama to get some sleep. He heard his mama curl up on the couch and then the door opened and closed again letting him know that Uncle Jeremiah had gone back outside. 

    Langley fell asleep with prayers for Marston echoing in his mind. Prayers that God would forgive his pa and let him into heaven so that Langley, Kaitlyn and mama could see him again someday.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

    Jeremiah was up with the dawn the next morning after a sleepless night in the rickety rocking chair on the porch of Rose’s ramshackle cabin. Jeremiah jabbed his fingertips into his temples and rubbed hard as if hoping he could stop his mind from thinking. 

    He had failed his little brother. 

    No matter how many times the duo had stolen from one another, hurt one another, cursed each other’s souls to the fiery pits of hell—Jeremiah loved his brother with all his heart. Marston might have been the larger of the brother’s but Jeremiah had been older and it had been his duty to see his brother stayed safe… 

    Now Marston was going to hang. 

    Jeremiah gripped the arms of the rocking chair until splinters pierced his skin. He had wanted to leave last night, to go to Marston, but Duke had forced him to stay here, reminding him that Marston would want his wife and children looked after and kept safe. 

    Did Jeremiah want an instant family? Hell no. But he owed it to Marston to at least get them to the Dakotas and settled into their new home and so that’s what he was going to do. 

    Jeremiah stood slowly and stretched his stiff and aching back as he looked out over the dew covered grass and misty woods. Part of Jeremiah wanted to stay right here and face Vincent down whenever the man showed up. But facing down Vincent, his brother and whatever men they had with them would do nothing other than possibly get Rose and the children hurt or killed and that was something that would bring Marston out of his grave and looking to bring Jeremiah back to hell with him. 

    What Jeremiah hated the most about this whole mess was that Marston was going to go down with a rope around his neck and a bag over his head. Marston deserved an outlaws death. He deserved to die standing toe to toe with the law and his gun blazing. He deserved to have his heart cease beating as he fell to the ground in a pool of blood that wasn’t only his. 

    Marston didn’t deserve to go down as a broken necked spectacle. Then again, maybe his neck wouldn’t break and he would slowly choke to death as his body twitched, his tongue swelled and his face turned blue….

    The horribly detailed scene in Jeremiah’s head was cut short when Rose burst from the cabin. She ran to the outhouse and slammed the door as she disappeared inside. Jeremiah heard her losing her stomach inside and wondered what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t any damn good at taking care of someone. 

    Marston would have probably gone to her and held her hair back but that wasn’t Jeremiah’s way so he simply stood on the porch and shifted his feet as he waited for her to come out. It took nearly ten minutes and her face was a nice shade of green. 

    Rose wiped the sleeve of her worn dress across her mouth and attempted to smooth her messy red curls which were contrasting sharply against her pallor. 

    “You gonna make it?” Jeremiah quipped. 

    Rose’s head snapped up and the glare her blue eyes fixed him with had him backpeddling. “I mean.. uh… are you okay?” 

    She nodded but instead of softening her gaze simply turned sad. “I’ll be fine.” 

    It was Jeremiah’s turn to nod as he headed toward the door. “Good. Come in and cook us some breakfast and then we’ll get everything packed up and head out.” 

    Rose stomped bare foot across the damp grass and shoved past Jeremiah as she strode into the cabin. She felt like death warmed over but that wasn’t stopping Jeremiah from barking out orders. He still expected her to cook and pack! 

    Rose scolded herself. Of course she was expected to do those things. The world wouldn’t stop for her upset stomach or her broken heart. She had simply gotten spoiled during her time with Marston. 

    Jeremiah watched Rose storm inside and he decided against joining her. He didn’t understand much about women but it was clear she wasn’t in a great mood and he wanted to avoid that. Not that he could blame her for her foul temper. Hell, she was handling herself better than most woman would in her situation. Most women were weak and would have long ago broken, laid down and refused to move again but not Rose. 

    Sure she might cry a bit and she might look like someone had ripped her heart out and stomped it in the dirt but she kept moving and Jeremiah respected that. Seeing that side of the woman made Jeremiah understand, at least a little, his brother’s reasons for catching the crazy.

    Jeremiah shook his head and headed toward the barn, his boots and his heart, both feeling as heavy as chunks of lead.

---

    Packing up was a somber affair. Due to their lack of many personal belongings, it didn’t take long until their things were loaded into the small cart. Jeremiah found a length of canvas folded in the barn loft and he used it to cover what little the family had to take with them. 

    “Alright, Langley, you get to ride the brown mare,” Jeremiah said, placing the reins in the boy’s hand. 

    Langley took the reins but didn’t say a word. As a matter of fact Jeremiah hadn’t heard him say a word all day—he felt worry for the boy grow in the pit of his stomach. 

    “Rose will drive the cart and Kaitlyn, you can ride beside her,” Jeremiah directed as he swung himself up onto his gray. 

    “What are we going to do with the rest of the animals?” Kaitlyn asked as she pulled herself onto the cart. 

    “We’ll give them to Tray and his family,” Rose replied. “We’ll stop by the shop while we’re in town and let him know.” 

    Jeremiah let his gaze linger on Rose and felt the hint of a smile curve his lips. She was the picture of contrast. She wore a simple blue dress and a white lacy bonnet over her full soft body and curls but with that dress and bonnet she wore Marston’s gun belt around her waist and his bandolier across her chest.

Softness and light contrasted sharply with worn leather and glinting metal. 

It felt like Marston was still riding with them—even Langley had a piece of the man at his side with Marston’s big knife strapped to his leg and hanging almost comically past his knee along with his big gray hat atop his head… the hat kept falling forward and Langley kept shoving it back but he didn’t take it off. 

Jeremiah wondered if his brother had realized just how deeply these folks loved him. 

Without a backward glance, the group set off toward town and the ramshackle cabin faded into the distance becoming nothing more than a memory. 

---

    “Thank you, Rose. My family could sure use those critters,” Trey said, wringing his hat in his soot blackened hands. His eyes were sad as he glanced toward the half of his building that had served as Marston’s gun shop. Rose chose not to glance that way. She didn’t want to see all his tools sitting unused. It made things too final. 

    Trey sighed. “I was real surprised to hear about Marston… are you doing okay?” 

    Rose held her head high. “He might have done bad in his past but Marston was a good man and the man he was during his time here was someone to be proud of.”

    Trey nodded. “Marston always did good by me. He was a good man, good to work around and, hell, he helped me put the new roof on my house so my wife wouldn’t get sicker when it rained.”

    “Marston was a blessing,” Rose agreed, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. 

    “So where are you all heading off to?” Trey asked, sliding his hat back on his head. 

    Before Rose could respond, Jeremiah stepped forward. “We’re not sure yet,” he said quickly. “They just need a change of scenery.” 

    Trey shook Jeremiah’s hand. “I understand that. Take good care of them.” 

    As the family left he blacksmith shop and headed toward the H&H Mercantile, Langley shot an accusing glance at Jeremiah. “Why did you lie to Mr. Trey?” 

    “I just think it would be best if no one knew where we were going,” Jeremiah replied. 

    Rose understood. She knew that Trey wouldn’t turn on them intentionally but men like Vincent and those with him had a way of getting information out of people—it would be best if Trey had no information to give. 

    “Let’s get our supplies and get gone,” Jeremiah mumbled. “I’d like to cover at least a few miles before we set up camp for the night.” 

    They stepped into the mercantile and Rose’s defenses instantly raised when Hester sneered at her from behind the counter. “Well, apparently we still have some trash stinking up our town,” she sniffed as she glared at Jeremiah. 

    “Hester, please don’t be rude,” Rose pleaded, exhaustion filling her. “We simply want to get a few supplies and then we’re leaving Louisiana.” 

    Hester’s cow eyes widened as she studied Rose. “Are you going into battle?” she asked with a laugh. 

    Rose sighed as she began to place scoops of jerked beef into a burlap sack. “I couldn’t stand to see Marston’s things packed away. He took such pride in them.” 

    Hester raised her nose. “Yes, well, I don’t believe I’d be comfortable carrying something that had shed innocent blood.” 

    Rose tensed and turned her attention to Langley and Kaitlyn. “Children, go wait at the cart.” 

    “But mama…” Langley countered. 

    Rose shook her head and fixed him with a stern gaze. The children had been through enough heartache in the last few days and they didn’t need to hear the hate that this horrible woman loved to spread. “Cart now,” Rose repeated. 

    Langley appeared ready to argue once again but Kaitlyn took his arm and tugged him toward the door. He reluctantly followed her outside but not before tossing a warning glare at Hester. 

    “It’s better, truly, for those poor babies that Marston is no longer around,” Hester quipped, fussing with her hair. “A murderer is hardly a good influence for young ones.” 

    Rose had heard enough. She whirled around and slammed her hands on the counter. “That’s enough!” She was aware of Jeremiah simply standing to the side with his arms cross over his chest. 

    Hester blinked several times before straightening jars on the counter. “Yelling is hardly ladylike.” 

    “I can honestly say I don’t care,” Rose assured her. “I have had as much as I am going to take of your hatefulness. Marston was a good man to me and he was a wonderful father and I will not let you say otherwise to his children.” 

    “Honestly!” Hester huffed. “Those aren’t his children. And that bastard growing in your womb is lucky it will never know its father.” 

    Something snapped within Rose. She had always strived for peace and hated violence but just now all she wanted was to take off Hester’s head. Rose launched herself toward the counter, stretching out her hands to wring the woman’s neck. 

    Jeremiah’s arm snaked around her waist at the last moment and pulled her back, securing her body against his. “Easy there, girl,” he warned. “You’ve got precious cargo in there.” 

    Rose breathed several deep breaths through her nose as she stared Hester down. Hattie came waddling in from the back. “What’s going on out here?” 

    Her eyes widened when she saw the way Jeremiah was holding Rose and the way Hester was gloating. 

Jeremiah gave her the condensed version of the morning’s events. “Rose came in here to get a few things but your harpy of a sister can’t keep her mouth closed.”

“Hester! You have to quit being so meddlesome!” Hattie scolded, her chins bouncing and her finger wagging. “Haven’t you done enough damage?” 

“I haven’t done a bit of damage,” Hester countered, pulling of her spectacles and wiping them on her apron. “I simply removed a dangerous and wanted man from the streets of our town.” 

Rose’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?” 

Hester’s lips curled. “I turned Marston in to the authorities of course. I let Marshall Montgomery know exactly where to find the brute.” 

Rose sagged in Jeremiah’s arms and he grunted at her sudden weight. Every ounce of fight seeped out of her as she stared at the woman who had helped take away the father her children needed. 

“How could you?” Rose whispered as tears gathered in her eyes. “All these years you’ve been so cruel, but this? What have I ever done to deserve such hatred?” 

“That man deserves to die for what he’s done,” Hester stated simply as she slid her spectacles back onto her thin face. 

Jeremiah took Rose by the shoulders. “Come on now. Let’s get you back outside,” he urged. 

Rose put no thoughts into her movements as Jeremiah led her out the door. She couldn’t think—could barely breathe! Jeremiah helped her into the cart and sighed. “You three stay here. I’ll get the supplies.” 

“Jeremiah…” Rose whispered, a tear slipping free. “She took him away from us.” 

“I know.” Was all Jeremiah said before disappearing back into the mercantile. 

---

    A nightmare had Rose waking with a start in the middle of the night. She grew tired of these nightmares. Nightmares that had trembling and covered in sweat and unable to find sleep again. 

    Rose glanced at Langley and Kaitlyn who were curled up beneath the cart sound asleep and slid out of their makeshift bed to walk to the dying firelight. She picked up a stick and began to poke at the fire in an attempt to breathe more life into it. 

    The day replayed itself in her mind and Rose shook her head. Hester was a monster. Rose had known that the woman hated Marston but she hadn’t realized that hatred had been so strong that Hester would go out of her way to rip Marston from his family and the wife and children that needed him. 

    And then there was Jeremiah’s reaction to it all… Rose stabbed harder at the fire causing orange ashes to rise into the air. Jeremiah’s reaction had been far too non-violent for the mood Rose had been in. He hadn’t said a word to Hester. He had simply paid for their supplies, loaded them up and driven the family out of town. 

    What kind of man did that? What kind of man learned who had sent his brother to his death and did nothing?

    Speaking of Jeremiah… Rose glanced at the empty bedroll beside the fire and realized he was gone. His horse was gone as well. Had Jeremiah abandoned them? Would he do something like that?

    Rose felt fear rising within her but it was quickly quelled when the sound of an approaching horse reached her ears and Jeremiah rode into camp. He jumped from the gray and removed his hat. The firelight barely illuminated his face but Rose saw his frown. 

    “What are you doing up?” he asked. 

    “I couldn’t sleep,” she replied, dropping her stick into the fire. “Where have you been?” 

    “I was taking care of a problem.” His frosty voice made her shiver. 

    “What problem?” 

    “A rat problem. A rat with big eyes and a nasty disposition. I wondered if there’d be a fight but she went down pretty easy.” 

    Rose frowned, wondering if the man had lost his mind, and then realization dawned on her. Jeremiah stepped forward slightly and she saw the blood splattered across his threadbare shirt. 

    Hester was dead.

    Rose’s knees weakened and her hands shook. Jeremiah had murdered a woman and he didn’t seem the least bit sorry to have done so. When his eyes met hers, Rose saw a level of coldness and detachment in them that she had never seen in Marston’s. 

    “Get some sleep, Rose,” he urged, tipping his head toward the cart. “We need to get a lot more grown covered tomorrow.” Without another word, Jeremiah grabbed his saddlebags off the gray and walked into the woods. 

    Rose wasted no time in getting back to her bed. She curled up on blanket upon the hard ground and tried to calm her racing heart. What frightened her more than Jeremiah’s actions and even his lack of remose, was the fact that knowing Hester was dead made her happy.. 

    Happy! 

    Maybe Rose was a monster.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four

Marston clicked his swollen tongue against the roof of his dry mouth several times in a wasted attempt to get a bit of moisture. He rolled his shoulders to ease his aching muscles but that only served to aggravate the seeping wounds that the Marshall’s whip had placed on his flesh.

That was the last time Marston would call the man an inbred, no-brained, ball-less coward.

‘No it won’t,’ that voice in his head countered and instead of arguing, Marston nodded in agreement. As a matter of fact, Marston had a whole new batch of insults he’d been stringing together in his head all day just waiting on the Marshall to pop his head back in.

Without giving much thought to his motions, Marston leaned his back against the cool stone wall and leapt away from it with a curse and a hiss. He contemplated ramming his head into those unforgiving stones until he died—surely that would hurt less.

Marston could smell the infection in his back and he knew that given time, the fresh bloody stripes across his chest would be the same. He was battling a fever, a headache and exhaustion.  

Marston wanted to die. He was ready to die. Hell, in all the ways that mattered he'd been dead since the Marshall and his deputies had led him away from that cabin and the only people in the world who mattered.  

How long ago had that been? How long had Marston been in this dirty, damp cell? It didn't matter anymore. All Marston knew for sure was that he would be going swinging tomorrow. The Marshall had made it clear that his hanging was scheduled for the next day and a big crowd was expected to turn out for the special event.  

At least Marston had a window to enjoy the sunrises and sunsets... he snorted with annoyance and glanced through the iron bars to the view outside.  

The gallows and a graveyard. The Marshall had obviously been trying to prove a point when he'd placed Marston in this cell. Bastard. Or better yet; scum-sucking, whore mongering, cock-less wonder. Marston smiled as he sat down on the tattered cot that served as his bed. He'd just come up with his next greeting for the good Marshall.  

Marston gingerly laid down, cursing the pain but forcing it aside.  

His eyes drifted closed but immediately flew back open when he saw that soft, pale skin, loving blue eyes and tumbling red curls.

"Damnation!" Marston roared before sending his hand crashing into the brick wall. He relished the pain as his knuckles cracked against unforgiving stone. Marston sat up, hissing in pain when the sheet tore away from the sticky wounds on his back.  

He forgot pain when he heard the door to the cell hall open. As light poured in from the main office, Marston hoped Marshall Montgomery was coming for another visit so he could share his newest insult with the lawman. Instead, it was one of the deputies; a tall scrawny nineteen year old boy named Pete. A tray of food was balanced on Pete's arm—at least Marston figured it was supposed to be food. Marston knew from experience that the chunky stew smelled like sweat and tasted about the same.  

"It's chow time, Marston," Pete said as he approached Marston's cell.  "You better eat up because the Marshall says this is your last meal."  

Marston chuckled. There were miracles still left to be found in the world.  Pete slid the tray through the small rectangular opening in the bars and Marston took it in his dirty hands. He smelled the stew—yep sweat. He sat the tray down on his crooked table and picked up the biscuit, tapping it against the table several times with a thud.

He let out a sigh. "And such gourmet food it is too."  

Pete let out a snort of laughter before composing himself and putting his serious face back on. Marston liked Pete okay. He was a decent man for a lawman. Marston wondered if Pete knew the truth about the Marshall he worked under—Marston suspected he didn't.  

"Enjoy it, Marston," Pete noted. "Because the gallows are all you have to look forward to tomorrow."  

Marston nodded as he stepped back to the bars and put his arms through the opening for his tray, resting his forearms against the metal support beam. He winked at the young deputy. "How about you find me some whiskey, Pete? My back is hurting something fierce and I'd like to get me a few hours sleep before I got swining."  

Pete glanced toward the main office with a frown. "I'm not supposed to...."  

"I won't tell Sir Licks Ass if you won't," Marston assured him.  

Pete's brown eyes lit with amusement but he didn't manage to purse his lips in disapproval. "You shouldn't call him names. It makes him mad and that's why you're in the shape you're in."  

Marston reached up and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow with a shaking hand. Damn but fevers and infection were hard to tough out. "Why do I care if he's mad?" Marston asked. "He's nothing but a little coward anyhow."  

"Coward?" Pete shook his head. "He took you down didn't he?"  

Marston grinned. "No. I came willingly."  

"Why would you do that?" Pete asked, leaning his hip against the bars of Marston's cell. "I've wondered that since they got back with you. Why does a man who has lived the way you have for almost two decades just up and give himself in to the law when they show up?"  

"It's pretty simple, Pete," Marston replied, scratching at his jaw. "My family was threatened and I figured the best way to keep them safe was to go with your friends willingly."  

Pete sighed and shook his head. "They're not my friends. And I'm sure the Marshall was bluffing. He wouldn't have harmed your family."  

Marston's weak legs ached beneath him. "Keep telling yourself that, Pete. Your boss is as crooked as they come. He makes me look like a puppy dog."  

Pete winced. "You better eat your supper, Marston. That stuff tastes bad enough warm, I'm sure it just gets worse when it's cold."  

Marston nodded and without warning he reached out his hands lightning fast and snatched Pete's keys from his belt and his gun from his holster.  

Pete jumped back, his face pale as Marston retreated one step back in his cell. He clicked his tongue and smiled. "You gotta be more careful, Pete."  

"I'll just yell for help..." Pete countered, sweat glistening on his upper lip.  

"Won't do much good when you and I are the only ones here, kid. Everyone else is home and warm in their beds."  

Marston found the sight of Pete's knees practically knocking together very amusing. Pete swallowed hard. "Are you going to kill me?"

Marston laughed. "Of course not. It's not like I'm a murderer or anything..." Marston winked. "Oh wait, yes I am."  

Pete nearly fell backward and Marston laughed harder. "Don't worry, kid, I'm not gonna kill you. You're the only decent fella around here and I'm just teaching you a valuable lesson."  

Pete didn't look convinced. "What lesson would that be?"  

Marston used the barrel of his revolver to scratch at a scab on his bare stomach. "That things aren't always what they seem. You got too comfortable against my bars not knowing that I could have killed you a hundred different ways. You thought I was too weak to be a threat and you thought wrong. Don't ever let your guard down, kid."

"What are you going to do?" Pete asked. "Tie me up and make your escape?"  

Marston shook his head. "Naw, I ain't runnin'."  

Marston went back to the bars and held the keys and gun out to Pete. Pete stared hard at him for several long moments and then threw up his hands. "Why the hell not?!" he demanded. "You do realize that you'll die tomorrow, right?"  

Marston snorted and let his gaze go out the darkening window. "Hard to forget that when you have a view like mine."

Pete took the gun and keys and let out a pained sigh. "Then why didn't you use those to get away? Anyone else would have."  

Marston wondered a moment if Pete hadn't leaned close to his bars on purpose... perhaps the boy's fear had been an act and he'd been trying to give Marston a way out. Marston didn't reckon it mattered. "Because your boss made it clear to me that my family will die if I make an attempt to escape and unlike you, I believe he means it. I love those people more than I love myself so I guess that means I'm swinging tomorrow. Who knows, maybe it'll be a bright, sunny day with clear blue skies and a light breeze blowing.' Marston let out a sigh and stared out the window. "That wouldn't be so bad I guess."  

Silence reigned a moment and then Pete grabbed the bars. "For what it's worth, Marston, I don't think I'd hang you if I made the rules. I don't think you're a bad man."  

Marston's lips curved in the ghost of a smile as he looked back at Pete. "Then you're a fool."  

Pete's eyes were full of sadness as he tapped the bars with his knuckles. "I'll be back in a minute with that whiskey."  

"I'd sure appreciate it,' Marston replied, though his gaze was downward as he studied his swollen, bleeding knuckles. He heard Pete's bootsteps fade as the heavy door to the main office opened and closed.  

"I love you, Rose," he whispered. "I'm doing this for you."  

Marston closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, imaging Rose's soft skin and her loving blue eyes—the thought gave him the smallest sense of peace.  

---

Duke leaned against the stone wall of the jail and fought back a wave of sorrow. Every hope he'd had for aiding Marston escape had just been taken away.  

He'd heard what Marston had said to the young deputy. It was just as Duke had figured. If Marston escaped then Marshall Montgomery and every other crooked lawman he could find would be after Rose and the children....  

Duke tore himself away from the wall and rubbed at his burning eyes. All he could do was be there tomorrow when his friend breathed his last breaths and he could see that Rose and those children never wanted for anything. That was all there was to do.  

Duke went to the saloon at the other end of town and pulled himself up to the bar. He ordered two shots of whiskey, one for himself and one for Marston, and then he downed them both.

A/n: This is not the end of the story. I was reuploading when my computer crashed. As soon as it’s fixed (hopefully by the end of the week), I’ll finish putting up the chapter and get the other two stories in this series back on wattpad as well! Thank you for reading!

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

Marston stood at the cell window and stared out at the quiet early morning. Mist swirled low in the air and heavy dew clung to nearly everything in the sight. The gallows could barely be seen through the fog but Marston knew they were there—waiting for him.  

Soon the crowds would begin to gather. They always gathered when there was a hanging. Whole families would come to eat, mingle and watch a man's neck break. For one terrible moment, Marston imagined Rose, Langley and Kaitlyn turning up to watch him die but he quickly shoved that thought aside.  

Rose wouldn't come to this—she wouldn't do that to Langley and Kaitlyn. Rose... All he thought of was that woman. Those thoughts filled him with pain and yet they were also the only thing that gave him any strength of peace. He'd give just about anything to run his hands through that soft red hair, trace those full freckled cheeks with his fingertips and feel her full warm body pressed against his just one more time.  

He would love to hear the oppressive silence filled with the ramblings of that over talkative ten year old he considered his own. Or scold Kaitlyn for raising her hand before speaking....

And he couldn't help but wonder what the child growing inside Rose would look like. The knowledge that he would never know that piece of himself and Rose was too much for Marston to bear and it had him growling and kicking the rickety table in the corner, shattering the crooked slabs of wood and sending splinters across the cell.  

Pain constricted his heart, as Marston laid his fevered brow against the cool metal bars. He was shaking and weak but he'd be damned before he lay down in that bed and let the Marshall find him looking weak and broken. Marston may have handed himself over to the law willingly but he'd never let them break him. That would go against everything he'd ever lived for.  

Marston heard the heavy door to the main office open and he recognized Pete's boot steps as the young deputy came down the hall. Marston's movements were stiff and every step filled him with pain as he went to the cell door.  

"Good morning, Pete," Marston greeted, wearing the fake flashin smile he'd perfected over the years.

Pete's features and posture were drenched in sadness and Marston wondered if Pete truly understood the kind of man he was so sad over. "It's not such a good day, Marston. You're going to be hanging at one."  

Marston gripped his bars and stretched out his aching arms. "What time is it now?"  

Pete's gaze went to Marston's oozing knuckles and Marston chuckled. "The wall said some things I didn't like. Now what time is it?" he repeated.  

"It's a little after nine," Pete replied. He tipped his head toward the broken table. "Did the table run its mouth too?"  

"Tables tend to do that," Marston noted with a nod. He flexed his hands on the bars, causing the muscles in his biceps to bulge. "So what brings you by this morning?"  

"I need to get that whiskey bottle back," Pete stated. "I'd get in an awful lot of trouble if the Marshall found it in here."  

Marston clicked his tongue. "Well we wouldn't want that now, would we?"  

Marston turned his back and headed toward the half empty bottle of whiskey beside his cot. Pete took a sharp intake of breath and gagged. "Marston, you need to see a doc!"

Marston laughed out loud as he carried the bottle back to the bars. "Why's that? So he can pretty my back up a bit before they kill me?"  

"I guess you have a point," Pete admitted, scratching at the blond hair sticking out beneath his hat. "Still your back is in bad shape."  

"There's something we can agree on, kid," Marston nodded, taking one last long swallow of whiskey before sticking the bottle through the bars to Pete.  

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" Pete asked.  

Marston thought for a moment. "Can I get paper and a pencil?"  

"Sure."  

Pete turned away but Marston reached out and caught him by the arm. When Pete glanced at him questioningly, Marston released his hold. "And give me your word that once I'm dead and buried you'll see that the letter I give you gets to where I want it go without the Marshall knowing?"  

"Yeah, I'll do you that favor, Marston. You could have killed me and you didn't and not too proud to admit it. I'll see that your wife gets the letter and I won't let the Marshall know."  

"How do you know it's for my wife?" Marston grumbled.  

Pete shrugged. "I don't reckon you have a whole bunch of friends you'd bother writing last words to, do you?"  

Marston just shook his head and five minutes later he was alone in his cell staring at a blank piece of paper. The words he had wanted to write seemed so simple to think last night and yet this morning with the whiskey wearing off and the pencil in his hand, Marston found it harder.  

With a heavy sigh, Marston put the sharp point of the pencil against the thick paper.  

Rose,

I hope this letter finds you well, love. My thoughts have never been far from you during this time we've been apart. I've lost track of the days since they no longer seem to matter. Today is my last morning upon this earth and I must say it's a peaceful one. 


I can hear the birds singing outside my window and there's a heavy mist in the air blanketing the land and buildings. God, how I wish I could touch you one last time... I want nothing more than to hear your voice and feel your lips against mine. 


Words can't express how bad I miss you, Rose. I hope you're taking care of yourself. I know you're taking care of the children because you're an amazing woman and mother, but don't forget about yourself. 


Tell Langley I love him and that I'm sure he's gonna grow up to be a man that any pa would be proud of. Tell Kaitlyn I love her too and I'm glad she joined our family. Make sure the nugget knows, when it's born, that I loved it very much and I'm sorry I couldn't stick around to get to know him or her. 


I want to tell you that I did something that I'd never done before last night. I prayed for God to forgive me for every wrong thing I've ever done in my life. It made me feel a little better though apparently he didn't appreciate the apology enough to figure up a way for me to get out of here without putting you all in danger. 


When you see Duke and Jeremiah tell those bastards to rot in hell. I don't have any sappy words for them. If you don't mind though could you give my rifle to Jeremiah. The brain addled man doesn't realize that it's actually his rifle and I stole it from him after I lost mine in a card game. And you could tell Duke that I don't blame him for any of this—that might be something he needs to hear. 


Well Rose, I can hear the Marshall moving around in the office so it's time to end this letter. There's a deputy here that seems to be an alright man and he's promised to get this letter to you. 


I love you more than you'll ever know and I'll see you again someday. I'm not stepping foot inside those gates 'til you get there. 

Marston

Marston folded up the letter, wiped his tears on the back of his dirty hand and walked to the bars. He tapped them three times and Pete came back to the hall.

"Thanks," Marston mumbled gruffly as he handed the paper to the young deputy.  

Pete stuffed it deep in his pocket. "It's been an honor to meet you, Marston Jacobs," Pete said, holding out his hand.  

Marston grinned. "Of course it has."  

---

"Tick-tock. Tick-tock," Marshall Montgomery called as he made his way down the hall to Marston's cell at nearly one that afternoon.

"That's an impressive clock impersonation," Marston noted dryly without looking away from the window. "Your mother must be proud."  

"And so must yours," Marshall Montgomery countered with a cold laugh.  

"I guess your visit means it's getting to be that time," Marston noted. From his cell he could see the festivities already starting near the gallows and all the families gathered with blankets and picnic baskets.  

"Yes it is," the Marshall replied. "You seem awfully calm for a man who's about to die."  

Marston laughed at the man's pouting. "Don't be so disappointed, Marshall," he said, stepping to the bars and gripping them loosely. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not real happy about dying."  

"I'm going to let you out and cuff you, Marston, but you better not try anything. You know exactly what's at risk if you do."

Marston's temper flared. His jaw clenched. "Yes sir," he growled.  

And so, Marston was led from the jail, cuffed with three deputies and the Marshall standing guard over him. Marston blinked in the harsh sunlight and nearly stumbled down the steps when his weak legs buckled.  

"You alright there, Marston?" the Marshall asked in an amused voice that lacked any real concern.  

"Just fine and dandy," Marston replied even as a cold sweat slicked his clammy skin. Despite his fatigue, Marston managed to keep his head high and his shoulders back as he stumbled through the crowd toward the gallows.  

Things were thrown at him from among the crowd. Rocks and other items pelted his red, seeping back but Marston didn't mutter a single grunt of pain.  

"Murderer!"  

"Thief!"

"Sinner!"  

"God hates men like you!"  

Those were only a few of the words that Marston heard being screamed at him as he walked. He climbed the steps of the gallows, hating that he had to lean some of his weight on the deputies in order to make the three steps.  

Such fine folks called Millerton home. It was a wonder, Marston had never settled down here with the warm, welcoming atmosphere the town possessed.  

Marston stepped onto the trap door and didn't blink as the executioner placed the noose on his neck. Marston smiled at the man. "Thank you," he said with a tip of his head, deciding that there was no reason to be rude to the man, even if he was going to pull the lever that killed him.

The executioner was clearly uncomfortable with the gesture and he quickly grabbed the tiny burlap sack that was meant to cover Marston's head.  

The Marshall held up his hand. "Don't cover his face. I want to see the face of my brother's murderer as he dies."  

With a hesitant nod, the executioner walked over to the lever and reached out his hand. "Don't I get a preacher here to beg the Lord for my forgiveness?" Marston asked with a grin.  

Marshall Montgomery shook his head. "There's no hope for a man like you."  

Marston winked. "The way I got it figured you and I ain't a whole hell of a lot different so you better be praying there is hope for men like me."  

"Any last words?" the executioner asked.  

Marston nodded. "Yes sir." The jeering crowd fell silent. Marston cleared his throat. "First off, I want to thank you fine folks for paying the taxes that made building such a fine jailing facility possible. Second, I want to thank all of you for coming to my special day. I don't think I actually wronged any of you that are here and that just makes it all the more special that you're here to watch me die. And to know you cared enough to even bring your children means that much more. You know, I have children of my own. Three of them—well one of them isn't due for a while yet. It sure would have been nice to see them all grow up. Anyway, that's not important anymore. Thanks for being here and I'll see you al on the other side."  

Marston stopped speaking and the crowd remained silent. Most of them now appeared just as uncomfortable as the executioner. Marston heard the executioner take a deep breath and time seemed to stand still.  

Marston closed his eyes and drew up a picture that would combat the fear curling in his gut.  

A ramshackle cabin with a skinny mare pacing the corral. A skinny red haired boy whistling tunes as he went about his long list of chores and a quiet girl dutifully scrubbing clothes on a washboard. And then there was Rose. She was soft and warm and glowing as she hung wet clothes on the line. Her blue dress, his favorite on her, was dancing around her legs in the gentle breeze and her red curls were dancing. She smiled at him.  

Home.  

Marston kept his eyes closed as he heard the scrape of the lever being pulled. The trapdoor beneath Marston disappeared and he dropped several feet. The rope tightened around his neck and all the breath became trapped in his lungs. Marston said a million different curses inside his head. His neck had not broken—now he got to choke to death.  

Marston could hear the crowd cheering, the Marshall laughing and the executioner cursing the fact that his knot hadn't worked. Marston's lungs began to burn. The panic and pain were intense within him. Working hard to fight them off, he focused all his attention on that picture of home in his mind.  

Then the vision began to falter. At first Marston wondered if he was losing consciousness but he was a man who could hold his breath underwater for nearly four minutes so he knew it couldn't be that.  

He frowned when he began to recognize the new scene entering his head. He was beside a set of railroad tracks and up ahead, beneath a shade tree was Langston's body just where Marston had left it so long ago. However, the old outlaw was no longer dead. Instead he was sitting up, leaned against the rough bark and he waved Marston over.  

Marston had never experienced anything so detailed or strange in his mind before but he figured the fever and lack of oxygen were probably to blame and he might as well go with it. Hell, he didn't mind being entertained for the last few moments he had alive.  

Marston approached Langston and the outlaw smiled. "Hello Marston." His voice sounded younger and stronger than it had in life.  

"I did what you wanted, sir," Marston assured him. "I gave them the money."  

"Yes you did," Langston agreed. "And you gave them much more."  

Marston frowned. "More?"  

"You loved them."  

"Yes I did sir," Marston replied without shame. "And it was one hell of a ride."  

Langston grinned and Marston recognized the glint in his eyes. It was a glint that all outlaws knew. "Well open your eyes then, son, cuz the ride ain't over yet."

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Six

Marston’s eyes flew open when the sound of thundering hooves reached his ears over the noise of the cheering crowd. His lungs were burning at this point and his vision was blurry but there was no mistaking the large black bodies barreling his direction.

A stampede of cattle heading straight for the gallows and the crowd gathered around them.  

Panicked cries replaced the cheering. The onlookers began to flee in all directions. Those on the gallows not attached to a rope, leapt down and ran for their lives.  

Stupid cows.

Now Marston five minutes of fame were going to be forgotten and no one was going to even see him strangle to death—or maybe he wouldn’t strangle. Maybe a cattle horn would finish him off before lack of oxygen did. They were getting closer and within the next twenty or thirty seconds he was going to be gouged to death or trampled when they barreled over the gallows.

It seemed that old Langston had a sense of humor. The ride wasn’t over yet. It was going to end when a two foot horn went up his ass.

Marston began fighting against the ropes at his neck and wrists with all his might but it was useless. He was stuck fast and his consciousness was beginning to fade.

“How about we get you down from there?” Marston heard a familiar voice behind him say. He turned to see Duke standing there with a grin on his weather worn face as he cut the rope Marston was hanging from.

Duke’s arms instantly wrapped around Marston went the rope broke free to keep the man from crashing to the ground. Marston cried out with pain as Duke’s fingers dug into his festering back. The gulps of air suddenly entering his lungs made him dizzy and Marston was too weak to offer much help but somehow managed to find himself atop Duke’s horse.

“Hang on to me,” Duke warned, as he slid in front of Marston.

Marston clung to Duke and they managed to get away from the gallows and the chaos just before thousands of pounds of cattle went careening into them, shattering the rickety structure and turning it to nothing but splinters.  

"Duke.. I can't escape," Marston warned, barely holding onto consciousness as he held on tight to his friend. His lungs were aching and his head was spinning.  

"Why the hell not?" Duke demanded. "I went through a lot of trouble to get you free."  

"He'll come after...Rose.." Marston's head drooped lower as his shoulders sagged.  

"I already took care of that, old friend," Duke assured him. "Marston Jacobs is a dead man. Now quit your bitchin' and stay on the horse. I'm gonna take you to old Snelly and she'll fix you right up."  

Marston grunted. Old Snelly was a bent and crooked old woman who was frank and harsh and looked worse than she smelled. She'd been patching up outlaws for years—probably since the Mayflower had landed on the shores of the New World.  

"I'll probably die before we get there," Marston warned.  

Duke chuckled. "Probably will. But I'll try to get you there just the same."  

---

Marston's dreams of Rose were unpleasantly interrupted by the strong scent of rotten eggs. What the hell was that smell?  

He was lying on his side and he shifted slightly before opening his eyes and letting out a yell that nearly shook the thin glass windows.  

The face that was an inch from his own was what little children's nightmares were made of. The old woman's wrinkles had wrinkles and they cut through her sun-leathered skin like scars. Her blue eyes were yellowed with age and they sunk deep back into her head. Her nose was large, bulbous and covered in age spots. A toothless grin revealed blackened gums and a bit of drool hanging off a paper-thin lip.  

"Well that explains the smell," Marston muttered.  

Old Snelly cackled loudly and stood to her full height which was about four and a half feet with that hump on her back. The ends of her gray hair dragged the dirty floor as she walked around the bed. "You're finally back in the land of the living. I was getting worried about you after nearly ten days."

"Ten days!" Marston exclaimed and then he winced at the pain in his parched throat. "I've been here that long?" he whispered.  

Snelly shuffled across the floor of her tiny shack and began ladling soup from a pot over the stove into a small bowl. "Yes sir. Ten long days Old Snelly has been cleaning your wounds and pouring broth down your throat to keep you alive. I wasn't about to let you die. No sirree. You've always been too handsome and I couldn't have stood it if you'd stopped breathing."  

Marston shivered. He wasn't sure what bothered him more. Learning that he'd been out for ten days, knowing that her crooked fingers had been touching him all that time or hearing that she thought him handsome.  

"What happened?" Marston asked as he struggled to sit up. His body felt sluggish and weak. A roar burst from his mouth when he put pressure on his right hand and felt the lightning bolt of pain.  

Snelly's gnarled hand shot out and fell across the back of his head. "Stop that!" she scolded. "You lay there and I'll feed ya."  

"Don't boss me. I'm a grown damn man," Marston grumbled but he was too tired and sore to put up much of a fight. His back pulsed, his hand hurt, his head ached and whenever he moved his neck the pain was nearly unbearable.  

Snelly wagged her nearly invisible eyebrows. "Trust me when I say that Old Snelly noticed you're a grown man."  

Marston gagged and glanced around the tiny one room shack. "Open up," Snelly snapped and Marston turned back to her to discover a wooden spoon full of soup an inch from his face.  

Marston wanted to tell the woman to go to hell and insist that he could feed himself but he was too weak to fight and Snelly was a stubborn old bat. "What the hell happened to me?" Marston asked, the events of the day of his hanging were hazy in his mind and he couldn't quite remember them.  

Snelly pressed the spoon to his lips and Marston allowed her to pour them in. He chewed on the chunk of meat and carrots and was surprised by how good it tasted. Then again, he had been a while without a decent meal so he was sure that just about anything would have tasted gourmet.

"You were in jail," Duke's deep voice rumbled as the man entered the shack.  

Marston's eyes narrowed. Duke? Memories flooded Marston. The hanging. The faulty knot. The stampede. Duke cutting him down.....  

Forgetting all about pain and weakness, Marston sat up quickly, overwhelmed with panic—which was a fairly new emotion for him. "Rose!" he exclaimed. "Duke, you helped me escape and now they'll go after Rose and the kids!"

Marston hissed in pain when the wooden spoon Snelly had been using to feed Marston, fell sharply across the back of his head. "Lie down!" she hissed impatiently. "You've made your back bleed again!"  

"I don't have time to worry about that," Marston insisted.  

Duke stepped forward. "Marston don't worry about Rose and the children. They're with Jeremiah on a trip to the Dakotas and I'd say they're more than halfway there by now."  

Snelly gently pushed Marston back down onto his side as he felt blood seep through his loose shirt. "Why is Jeremiah taking my family to the Dakotas?" Marston asked just before Snelly shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth. The spoon connected sharply with his teeth and a shockwave of pain went racing through his aching head. Marston glared at him but she only offered a toothless grin in response.  

"Because you have a lot of enemies, my friend, and because Jeremiah has a place up there."  

Marston remembered the deed he'd won in the poker game but he was still confused. "But even Jeremiah can't hide them from the law, Duke. Every crooked lawman around will come for them now that I escaped Marshall Montgomery."  

Duke shook his head and perched himself on the rickety table. "I told you I took care of that. Marston Jacobs is a dead man."  

"In order to fall for that they would have needed a body, Duke, and mine is right here in one piece... more or less."  

"In one piece thanks to me. You would do well to mind what I say from now on," Snelly grumbled.  

Marston rolled his eyes and accepted another spoonful of stew. "I took care of the body, Marston," Duke assured him. "When they cleaned that mess they found a seven foot tall tree of a man with a rope around his neck, whipmarks on his back and a big beard on his face. I don't think they'll look any closer than that—after all they believe you had a gallows collapse on top of you and a hundred head of cattle trample you to death."  

Marston stared at Duke without blinking for several long moments. "Who the hell did you kill?"  

Duke shrugged as he pulled a coin from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers. "I don't know. I needed someone to pass off as you and there he was."  

Marston wanted to feel guilty. He 

should feel guilty. But all he could think was that he was alive and free to return to his wife and children.

"But how did you do it?" he asked.  

"Rose told Jeremiah and I you were in Millerton. I rode into town the night before your hanging and I heard you talking to that deputy about why you couldn't escape. At first I was just going to write you off as a lost cause but then I thought about Rose and the baby she was carrying and knew I couldn't do that. So I had to think of a way to kill you without killing you."  

Marston took a moment to let that sink in. "I suppose I owe you one hell of a thank you then."  

Duke snorted. "You know I hate those words."  

Marston smiled broadly. His first real smile in weeks—then the smile disappeared. "But if you aren't hiding Rose and the children from the law then what enemies were you talking about?"  

Duke sighed and shoved the coin back in his pocket. "You got sloppy when you killed Gilliam. Vincent was still alive when someone showed up the next morning."  

Marston growled. "But I shot that bastard in the chest!"  

"Well you should have shot him twice. He got to town, got patched up and was more than happy to tell the law all about you—he left out any part of his own wrong doings. Branded you a kidnapper and murderer and helped put your face on a brand new poster. Jeremiah and I heard that that crazy brother of his, Frank, was assembling a gang to hunt you down. That's why we rode like hell to get to your cabin and realized you were gone."  

Marston clenched his fists. "I guess I'll just have to hunt the bastards down and kill them."  

"I don't think you will," Duke countered sharply.  

"I wish folks would quit telling me what to do," Marston snapped. "I'm a grown man."  

Marston nearly choked on the next mouthful of stew Snelly shoved roughly into his mouth as Duke stepped forward and stuck his finger under his nose. "Yeah and I just risked my neck and went to a hell of a lot of trouble so you could go back to your wife and kids. But go ahead, go ride after a whole blood thirsty gang and get yourself shot to death. Who cares about Rose, Langley, Kaitlyn and that unborn babe? Certainly not you. You're Marston Jacobs and you don't care about anyone but yourself."  

Marston puffed up, fully prepared to give the man a piece of his mind but he felt himself deflate when he realized Duke was right. It would be suicide to go riding after that gang alone and Marston had too much to live for to go committing suicide.  

Duke seemed to notice the quiet calm of acceptance in Marston's demeanor and he nodded. "Now that you're thinking a little more clearly let me say that the odds of Vincent or his brother finding you and the family up in the Dakotas are slim to none. I happen to know that they never leave Texas, Louisiana and New Mexico and they'd never think to look for you that far north."  

Marston nodded but said nothing. Duke smiled. Marston always had hated to have anyone tell him he was wrong.  

Snelly batted her eyelids. "I won't tell a soul I know where you went."  

"Maybe I'll kill you just to be sure," Marston grumbled.  

"No you won't," Snelly countered, waving her finger. "Who would patch you up the next time you get yourself strung up by a rope?"  

Marston ignored her and focused on Duke. "I want to leave in the morning."  

Snelly shook her head. "Nope."  

Marston glared. "What do you mean nope? I'm ready to see my family."  

Snelly simply shrugged, unbothered by his grouchiness. "It will be several weeks before you're fit to travel. That back is in bad shape and your hand is broken."  

Marston's gaze went up to the ceiling. "And here I thought I was in perfect health," he muttered.  

Duke's low chuckle rumbled throughout the shack. "You have to do what the woman says, Marston. Stay down a few weeks. Hell, you can't even get out of that bed and on a horse on your own yet. If you tried to ride hard for three weeks to reach the Dakotas in the shape you're in now, you'd die before you got there."  

Marston hated Duke. He hated him because he was right. Marston didn't have the strength to make it out the front door; getting to the Dakotas was out of the question.  

"How long?" Marston snapped, turning his gaze to Snelly.  

She tapped a crooked finger against her wrinkled chin. "Three weeks," she said, setting down his bowl and grabbing up a stack of bandages from the table. "Three weeks should give this back time to heal and allow you to build up some strength."  

Marston growled. He knew he was a terrible patient but he didn't do sick or weak well and, dammit, he wanted to go home to his family. He supposed though that if anyone could handle his grouchiness it was the grizzled old lady currently tearing his old bandages off his back with a vengeance.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Rose snuggled deeper into her blankets and stretched her arms over her head. She was lying directly in the middle of the vastest bed she had ever slept in. She’d chosen the middle so there wouldn’t be so much empty space and perhaps she wouldn’t feel the ache of loneliness so sharply in her chest—it hadn’t worked.

Rose had been quite shocked when they'd arrived at this massive home two days ago. It was two stories tall, painted white with black shutters and a wraparound porch. It was fully furnished with heavy gleaming furniture that was sturdy and made to last—no more rickety, scratched up kitchen tables for her family.  

There were two large barns, spacious corrals and vast fields for farming to the west of the house. The land in all directions as far as a person could see belonged to her family.  

And they didn't need to worry about bumping elbows inside. The home had six bedrooms, a vast kitchen with stone countertops and gleaming copper pots and pans, a sitting room, a game room with a billiard and poker table, a small den complete with sewing table and a desk behind the kitchen, two water closets and an attic.  

Jeremiah had laughed after they'd done some exploring and said that rich men shouldn't play poker. Rose thought the house was nice but it wasn't home.... There was no Marston.  

Rose rolled onto her side and stared at the bright yellow curtains over her glass bedroom window—Rose had never before lived in a home with glass windows. She thought about the time that had passed since they'd lost Marston.  

Langley and Kaitlyn were adjusting well thanks to the resilience of children. When Marston was mentioned or something reminded them of him, they would experience a few ad moments but as a whole they were moving on with their lives rather quickly.  

Jeremiah was clearly getting tired of being cooped up and tied down but the man was staying true to his word and had been with them, keeping an eye out for danger without fail.  

They were all doing okay—all of them except Rose. She put on a brave face for Jeremiah and the children but when she was alone, as she was right now, she could never stop the tears from pouring from her eyes.  

Marston was gone.  

Rose knew he was gone. Her mind knew he wasn't coming back to her. But she couldn't seem to convince her heart. Every night she dreamed that he would come riding across the plains and wrap her tight in strong arms. He would whisper gruffly against her ear and tell her how much he loved her. She would find herself lifted into his arms and cradled against his broad chest with her head against his heart. He would carry her up to this giant bed, lay her down and love her body until they were both far too tired to move.  

Rose sniffed and wiped desperately at her tears. Rose imagined she could hear Marston's heart beat beneath her ear—as if the pillow were his chest—and it made her smile.  

"Hey Rose?" Jeremiah's voice came from the other side of her closed door.  

Rose pulled the blankets up higher and dried her face with the sleeves of her gown. "Come in."  

Jeremiah opened the door and poked his head inside. "I'm going into town. Langley wants to come with me. Is that okay with you?"  

Rose hated the annoyance the saw on his face when he caught her in tears. She squared her shoulders and glared back. Sometimes she hated having the man around. He was nice enough to them all but he was cold and not the least bit comforting and what she hated most about having him around was his eyes—his golden eyes that reminded her so much of his brothers.  

It was hard enough to live without Marston knowing that she had a piece of him growing inside of her—to have to look into his eyes shining at her from the face of another man was torture.  

"That's fine with me," she assured Jeremiah.  

He nodded. "Kailtyn is already downstairs cleaning," he added before slipping back out the door.  

Rose sighed. She knew that was code for 'get your backside out of the bed'. She stood from the bed and slid on the blue dress that had always been Marston's favorite. She laid her hand over her stomach which was beginning to swell a bit under her skirts.  

Rose slipped into her shoes and left the room, knowing that the only reason she was carrying on was because she had promised Marston she would when the law had taken him away.  

---

Marston slid into the clean shirt that Duke had given him. "I'm out of here," Marston growled.  

"But my shack will be so lonely without you," Snelly complained from where she rocked beside the fire. "How will I fill the silence without your bitching and moaning?"  

Marston laughed. "I'll just have to get myself shot again and come visit soon."  

That seemed to satisfy Snelly and she smiled before going back to the knitting in her lap. Duke tossed a sack at Marston. "Put all this on and I'll go get the horses saddled."  

Marston poured out the sack and a hat, gun belt, revolver and bowie knife tumbled onto the bed. Marston frowned. "Where did you get all this and a second horse?"  

Duke grinned. "Does it matter?"  

Marston found himself chuckling. "No, I don't guess it does."  

Duke left the shack and Marston took his time strapping on the weapons. He rolled his shoulders once his task was completed and winced. The skin on his back was tight and it still pained him to move but Snelly assured him the wounds were closed and as long as he took it fairly easy they should remain that way.  

The biggest trouble Marston had was with his aching right hand. He'd done a number on it when he'd sent it crashing into the stone wall. He had a feeling he'd never be able to use the thing quite the same as he had before but he wasn't too concerned about that—his left worked just as well.  

All in all he felt fit and healthy and more than ready to get back to his wife and children. There was only one stop he needed to make before he went and he knew Duke wouldn't be too happy about it.

---

"You want to what?!" Duke demanded as the two men stood on the porch a short time later.  

"I want to go back to Millerton," Marston repeated.  

"Why in the holy hell would you want to do that?" Duke asked, his voice tight.  

Marston raised his brow. "Since when is hell holy?"  

Duke's eyes narrowed. "Just answer the damn question."  

Marston sighed. "I want to make sure they believed I was dead and I want to kill that good for nothing Marshall."  

"I'll do it for you," Duke insisted. "You don't need to be riding around Millerton."

Marston bristled. "I'm not asking your permission. If you don't want to come that's fine but this is something I need to do and I'm going to do it myself."

Duke glared at Marston before shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. "I guess I understand... But if you get yourself caught again I'm 

not saving you this time. Understood?“

Marston grinned. "Understood. My ass is my own responsibility. Don't worry, Duke, I ain't gonna get caught again. Now that I know that Rose and the children are safe and hidden, the Marshall won't find me nearly as cooperative."  

---

"See? I told you Marston Jacob's is a dead man."  

"That is a really disturbing thing to see," Marston admitted, staring down at the wooden cross with his name carved into it. Graves surrounded them and a shiver ran down Marston's spine as light rain misted down upon them. It was dark and the streets of the quiet town were silent.  

"I did good if I say so myself," Duke boasted. "They never knew the difference between you and this man."  

"You wouldn't happen to know what his name is would you?" Marston asked, tilting his head toward the cross.

Duke shrugged. "Dead Guy?"  

Marston chuckled but forced himself to stop quickly when he remembered that this wasn't a laughing matter. "That works." Marston pulled off his hat. "Thank you, dead guy, for allowing Duke to kill you so that...."

"Did I mention that I whipped him too?" Duke interjected.  

"While he was alive?" Marston demanded.  

Duke shrugged. "I was drunk and I wanted it to look authentic...." He shrugged. "Beyond that my reasoning was clouded."  

Marston placed his hat back on his head and rubbed at his freshly shaven face. "Thank you, dead guy, for getting whipped and then killed so that I could make an escape and go be with my family—" Marston paused and glanced at Duke. "He didn't have a family did he?"  

Duke shrugged again and Marston wondered if that's all he knew how to do. "I don't know if he had a family or not. We didn't exactly have a conversation. If he did they'll probably be happy to be rid of him. He reeked of whiskey when he came stumbling out of the whores room at the brothel."  

"What were you doing at a brothel?"  

Duke grinned. "What would 

you do at a brothel?“

"Nothing. I'm a married man."  

"Well before you got boring, what would you have done at a brothel?" Duke amended.  

Marston snorted with disbelief. "So you were drinking and sleeping with whores? Where exactly did I fall on your priority list... and something else that's been bugging me. If that executioners knot had worked, I would have died long before you sent them cows to the gallows."  

Duke laughed heartily and patted Marston on the back—Marston hissed in pain and punched Duke solidly in the jaw. Duke stumbled back and glared at Marston. "Would you stop punching me? I'm over fifty years old!"  

Marston shrugged. "Don't piss me off."  

Duke rubbed at his face. "I knew the knot wouldn't work, you bastard. I'm the one that altered the knot so it wouldn't snap your neck."

Marston grinned sheepishly. "Well thanks for that then."  

Duke nodded. "Now what are you going to call yourself? You can't very well keep going by Marston Jacobs."  

Marston stared down at his grave marker for a long time while rain collected on the brim of his hat. Duke cleared his throat. "I was thinking something like Phillip...."  

Marston winked mischievously. "Jacob Marston."  

Duke's eyes widened. "Are you really that big of a cocky bastard?"  

Marston laughed. "You know damn well I am."  

"Well let's go then, Jacob. We got a few weeks of riding before we reach the family."  

"Not yet," Marston pulled his hat lower. "I've gone one more thing to do in town."  

"You better not be sloppy this time," Duke warned.  

Marston's fists clenched. "I oughta punch you again for saying that. I'm one of the best damn outlaws that's ever lived."  

"Except now you're dead."  

Marston grinned. "Well that just makes me even better. Now, I'm gonna go kill that Marshall and we'll head out for home."  

Duke chuckled. "Spoken like a true family man. Let's go murder someone before we got get some bedtime kisses from the family."  

Marston ignored Duke and slipped silently through the shadows. The streets were deserted this late at night as he made his way to the jail with Duke on his boot heels. Marston rolled his eyes. He had no idea what had gotten into Duke lately to make the man so protective but he was ready for the bastard to back off.  

Marston peaked through the window of the jail office and saw Marshall Montgomery sitting behind his desk. The man was slumped in the chair and sound asleep. The wispy hairs of his blond mustache were dancing in time with his light snores.  

Marston felt hatred in its purest form burning in his gut. Sitting there with his legs propped up on his desk and his arms crossed on his belly was the man who dared threaten his family. The man who had beaten and whipped him. Marston grinned. Marshall Montgomery was 

not going to live to regret the mistakes he had made.

Marston motioned for Duke to get around the side wall and out of sight. Stepping to the door, Marston knocked and stood to the side so he wouldn't be visible through the peephole. He heard the Marshall's chair scrape against the floor and his footsteps came to the door.  

"Who's out there?" the Marshall called.  

Marston pulled his knife and remained silent. When the door opened, Marston sprang forward and the Marshall's eyes widened when his knife sank deep into his chest.  

Marston used the force of their impact to propel their bodies backward and slam the Marshall back into his chair. "Remember me?" Marston growled, driving the knife deeper.  

"You're...dead..." the Marshall gasped, tears gathering in his dying eyes.  

Marston grinned. "Like I said, Marshall, you better be praying like hell that men like you and me stand a chance with God cuz you're about twenty seconds away from meeting him."  

"Why...?"  

A low rumbling chuckle left Marston's chest. "You have to ask? You threatened my family, you son of a bitch, and no one threatens my family. I just had to rise from the dead and make sure you understood that."  

Marston twisted the knife and yanked the knife from the Marshall's chest with a wet plopping sound. Warm blood gushed from the wound, covering Marston's hand. Marston watched as the Marshall grew pale and his breaths turned shallow.  

The fear in the man's eyes grew weaker and weaker and then it died completely as the Marshall took one last shuddering breath and then breathed no more.  

Marston wiped his hand and knife clean on the Marshall's shirt before turning to see Duke standing in the doorway with a proud smile on his face. "You still got it."  

"Were there any doubts?" Marston asked.  

"A few," Duke admitted.  

Both men laughed but the sound fell silent when a boot shuffled on the other side of the door to the cell hall. Marston put his finger to his lips which caused Duke to roll his eyes. The door to the hall opened and Marston barely managed to stop Duke before the man pulled his gun and shot Pete dead.  

The young deputy was pale as he glanced at the dead body beside the desk. "You killed the Marshall."  

Marston nodded. "Yeah."  

Pete swallowed hard and met Marston's gaze full force. "He deserved it. I've been looking into things since your hanging and he deserved it and more."  

Marston sighed. "The only problem now is that I have a witness. What should I do about that?"

Pete held his gaze bravely. "You should probably kill me but you don't have to. I won't say a word to anyone. I knew you weren't dead. I saw that man get you down and leave with you but I kept my mouth shut because I respect you, Marston, and I still do."  

Marston studied the boy a few moments and then nodded. "Fair enough."  

"Marston, are you forgetting that leaving witnesses is what got you in this mess to begin with?" Duke grumbled.  

Marston glared at the man. "Duke, I appreciate you helping me but you're beginning to piss me off."

Duke threw his hands in the air and left the jail. Marston growled. For as long as Marston had known him, Duke had never acted like he gave two hoots in hell about Marston or anyone else. Now suddenly Duke was saving his life, having his back and acting like a friend... Marston shivered. He wasn't sure he liked this new relationship.

"I'll let you live, Pete," Marston said. "I trust you."  

Relief caused Pete's shoulders to sag. "Thanks, Marston. I appreciate it." The deputy shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He held it out and Marston took the letter he'd written for Rose so long ago in his hand. "I figured you might want it back." Pete shrugged. "You can give it to her yourself now."  

Marston nodded and shook Pete's hand. "It was an honor to know you, Pete."  

"You too, Marston." Pete replied, wincing at the strength in Marston's hand. "And I didn't see a thing here tonight."  

Marston winked, tipped his hat and stepped out onto the porch. "You done kissing your lover boy in there?" Duke grumbled, his hands deep in his pockets as he stared out at the rainy night.  

Marston came to stand beside him. "Why, you jealous?"  

Duke snorted. "Hell no. You're a prickly bastard."  

Marston chuckled and patted the older man on the back. "You coming to the Dakotas with me?"  

"Of course I am." Duke smiled thoughtfully. "I wouldn't miss out on a chance to look at Rose."  

It was Duke's turn to laugh as Marston's expression turned dark. "It'll be hard for you to look at her if I cut out your eyes."  

Duke just laughed harder. "I'd say it would, Marston. I'd say it would."

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"Did you see that, mama! I blasted a whole straight through that target! I can't believe I just did that! It must be because I'm using pa's rifle. I'll bet that's it."

Rose barely glanced at her son as she continued hanging clothes on the line. Her mood was dark today.  

"You're damn near as good a shot as your pa was too," Jeremiah agreed proudly.  

Rose didn't miss the happy smile that split Langley's face and she was quick to grab up one of Kaitlyn's skirts and hang it in front of her so that Jeremiah and Langley wouldn't see her pained expression.  

As good a shot as his pa 

was . Not is because Marston was dead. Damn, but Rose missed that man! It had been months since he’d been taken away and yet Rose still couldn’t seem to convince herself he was truly dead. She kept waiting for him to come riding over the hill and have them pick up where they’d left off.

And where was Duke? Surely he'd intended to join them in the Dakota's hadn't he? What was keeping him?

Rose took a deep breath to push down the pain she'd gotten so good at hiding and continued to hang up the laundry.  

"Langley!" Kaitlyn called from the porch, her voice raised with annoyance.  

"What?" Langley snapped. "Can't you see I'm busy here?"  

Kaitlyn put her hands on her narrow hips. "You forgot to make your bed this morning. Do I look like your maid?"  

“Do I look like your maid?” Langley imitated in a shrill voice which made Kaitlyn glare and Rose smile. Those two were always at each other’s throats about something but they also always had each other’s backs.

"Langley..." Kaitlyn warned.  

Langley dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "What you look like is a nagging little girl who's interruptin' my shooting practice. Ain't that what she looks like to you, Uncle Jeremiah?"  

Jeremiah scratched at his belly and shrugged. "Yeah, kind of."  

Kaitlyn gasped and Rose knew it was time to step in. "Langley, you know you're supposed to make your bed every morning before you come out of your room. It's not your sister's responsibility."  

Langley grumbled under his breath and Rose's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, young man?"  

He handed the rifle to Jeremiah and swallowed hard. "I said yes ma'am," he assured her before darting up to the porch. He stuck his tongue out at Kaitlyn as he passed her and in a moment so comically out of character for Kaitlyn, she mimicked his motion, and went in after him.  

Rose sighed and went back to the clothes. She heard Jeremiah walk up behind her and after he simply stood there for several long moments, Rose stood straight, turned and looked at him. "What is it, Jeremiah?"  

He rocked back on his heels and rubbed at his thin neck with his hand. "I guess I didn't handle that very good. I'm not very good with those kids. I'd say if Marston were here he'd have handled it a lot different."  

Something inside Rose snapped. Words, thoughts and feelings that she'd been keeping bottled up all came bubbling out in a heated rush. "Yes, Jeremiah, he would have handled things a lot differently! For starters Langley would be doing his chores 

before target practice. He’d be learning his numbers and studying history instead of simply learning to cuss, shoot guns and taught how to tell the perfect lie. Kaitlyn would be doing more studying and playing and less working because Marston would ensure that he took on some of the load around here himself. Langley wouldn’t be mouthing off and disrespecting me because Marston wouldn’t have allowed it. There would be no fear when I laid my head down at night because I would feel safe with him beside me. I wouldn’t be crying day and night when the smallest thing makes me think of him. And most importantly….“ Rose’s voice broke as tears streamed down her cheeks. “…he would have noticed that I’m not okay long before now and he would have taken me into his arms and promised me that he was going to make everything okay again.”

Jeremiah stood there in stunned silence and Rose felt quite foolish. She flushed bright red, tucked a stray strand of curls behind her ear and bit down hard on her lip.  

In an attempt to pretend that the last thirty seconds had never happened, Rose stooped down to grab a pair of Jeremiah's trousers but he grabbed her arm a little too roughly and pulled her back up.  

Rose was about to complain about the pressure he was using as his fingers dug into her skin but her words died on her tongue when she saw the pained expression on his face.  

"Do you think this has been easy on me?" he whispered hoarsely, his golden eyes rimmed with red. "Marston was my baby brother and when push came to shove I wasn't around to keep him safe. So I did the next best thing I could think of to do and vowed to take care of his family. Hell, do you think I don't realize that I'm not half the man my brother was? He had something inside of him that I just don't. I ain't cut out for being a pa or taking care of kids. And I noticed that you weren't okay before now but what the hell was I supposed to do about it when I wasn't okay either?"  

Rose looked up into his golden eyes so much like his brother's and, for a moment, she let herself believe it was Marston's eyes she was looking into. She reached up and laid a gentle hand on his gaunt cheek and smoothed her thumb along his jaw. Jeremiah stiffened under the contact and his eyes narrowed but he said nothing.  

"I loved your brother so much," Rose gasped before throwing herself against Jeremiah's chest and wrapping her arms tight around him. She wanted to feel the warmth of human contact. She needed to know that she wasn't alone in the world.  

Jeremiah simply stood there a moment and then he wrapped his long arms around her and rested his cheek on her hair. "It's okay, Rose," he promised. "I'm gonna make sure everything is okay again."  

Rose knew he was only saying what he thought she wanted to hear but she was thankful for the words anyway as they clung to one another with desperation. Each of them felt the pain of the loss of Marston clear into their souls and they found a kinship in that pain.  

The wind whipping across the plains blew Rose's skirt around Jeremiah's legs and caused long tendrils of her red hair to swirl around him and still they simply held one another, neither having the strength to pull away just yet.  

---

"I can hear critters. I bet that's the homestead!" Marston exclaimed, knowing he sounded like a child in his excitement but unable to care.  

Hell, but he suddenly felt like a brand new man! His family was so close. In mere minutes, he'd be able to hug Langley tight, see Kaitlyn's pretty face and finally hold his Rose.  

A picture of her smiling face, her loving blue eyes and her full cheeks red from lovemaking came to his mind and he urged his horse faster. "Take it easy on that poor thing," Duke scolded with a chuckle. "You're already so damn big you're breaking her down."  

Marston ignored him and topped over the hill. The view he was met with was breathtaking. Rolling hills, a two story white home with black shutters and a wrapparoudn porch. Two large barns, spacious corrals and outbuildings nicer than the cabin he'd once called home with Rose and the kids. Wheat and barley fields spread out to the west and.....

Marston's blood suddenly boiled hotter than it had ever been before. He gripped the reins so tightly that his knuckles popped. Blood rushed into his head causing his ears to burn.  

Duke rode up beside him and followed his gaze. "Why that sly old dog."  

Marston could do little more than grunt. Sly dog his ass. Jeremiah was fixing to die. That no good, backstabbing, son of a bitch was about to die. No more empty threats this time. Stealing horses was one thing. Leaving him to die in the desert was one thing. But Jeremiah had his arms wrapped tight around Rose and that was something entirely different.  

Her head was resting on his chest and his face was in her hair. They held each other like lovers and it caused every ounce of Marston's good sense to take off in a hurry.  

"Oh dear..." Duke mumbled at the mask of fury on Marston's face. "I'm sure there's a good explanation."  

"Yeah and the good solution is going to be my revolver a good two foot up his ass and me pulling the trigger," Marston hissed. "That woman stealing jackass."  

"Is it really woman stealing if they both think you're dead?" Duke wondered.  

Marston's eyes narrowed as he slid his revolver from his holster. "You choosing sides?"  

Duke held up his hands and shook his head, clearly amused with the whole situation. "Nope. I ain't got a dog in this fight."  

Duke's amusement merely served to fuel Marston's anger and his let out an angry yell before kicking his mare hard and sending it into a hard gallop toward the lovebirds.  

---

Rose and Jeremiah heard the hoof beats thundering toward them and Jeremiah instantly grabbed Rose's arm and thrust her behind him to shield her body as he pulled his gun.  

A gun shot rang out, echoing painfully close and Jeremiah cried out in pain. "You stupid, good for nothing, worthless son of a bitch!" Jeremiah bellowed, though Rose couldn't see who he was cursing at from her place behind him. "If you and I didn't have the same damned mother I'd blow your brains all over this yard!"  

"Yeah, well, you might as well get to it then, brother, cuz it's either going to be my brains or your brains."  

Rose's knees grew weak and her legs nearly disappeared beneath her as she clung to the back of Jeremiah's shirt.  

That voice. She knew that voice.  

"M..marston?" she gasped.  

Jeremiah jerked away from her and stepped to the side. "Damn straight, it's Marston. And Duke's with him. Apparently they found some way to keep him from swinging and then took their slow, sweet time in getting here!"  

Despite the pain and the temper in his voice, Rose could hear an undercurrent of relief and happiness in Jeremiah's voice. Rose focused all her attention on the tall silhouette lit from behind by the sun. His face was lost in shadows but Rose would know that hard body anywhere. His gun was still drawn but his free arm went up to pull off his hat and Rose nearly collapsed at the sight of him after so long believing she'd never see him again  

He was thinner than she remembered and his hair was longer but there was no mistaking the man she loved. Marston had come home.  

"You're wrong, Jeremiah," Marston snapped, his eyes quickly leaving Rose.  

She felt cold and her heart fell into her feet. Why was he so angry? Why wasn't he was overwhelmed with happiness at the sight of her as she was seeing him again? In her dreams it had been so different...  

"How's that?" Jeremiah asked, picking at the bloody tear in his shirt sleeve.  

"I went swinging," Marston assured him. "But Duke cut me down before I strangled to death. It's a long story but in the eyes of the law Marston Jacobs is a dead man."  

"Well good to know!" Jeremiah grumbled. "So why the devil did you shoot me?"  

"You worthless coward, I shot you because you were putting your hands all over my damned woman! Apparently you were satisfied with just stealing horses from me anymore."  

Rose realized Jeremiah was simply sputtering and seemed unable to come up with a response, Duke was watching on with amusement and Langley and Kaitlyn were standing on the porch watching the scene with varying degrees of disbelief while Jeremiah and Marston continued to hold one another at gunpoint.

Rose threw her hands in the air. "I can't believe this!" she exclaimed, her own temper flaring. This was 

not the reunion she had dreamed of! Even in her worst nightmares it couldn’t have gone this badly! Marston was finally home! He had lived through something that should have killed him and instead of being happy to see her he was accusing her of being with his brother? Had the man gone completely daft?

"I know what I saw," Marston growled without looking her way.  

"You need to have your eyes examined, little brother, if you think I have any interest in your woman!" Jeremiah assured him.  

Rose snorted with indignation and Marston's eyes narrowed. "Why the hell wouldn't you? Are you insulting her now?" Marston demanded, cocking his gun.  

"No, you overgrown jackass," Jeremiah grumbled without batting an eye. "I ain't got no interest in her because she's head deep in the crazy with you!"  

Marston shook his head. "No she's not. I saw her clinging to you."  

Rose's jaw dropped. Anger and disappointment warred and clashed within her heart and caused hot tears to rush to her eyes. It was all too much. Marston was alive, he was home and he was an ass!

Rose let out an animalistic shriek of rage before storming forward and shoving the men apart. "God, men are ignorant!"  

Duke chuckled. "We never said we was smart."  

Rose glared at him. "Not helping," she hissed before storming onto the porch, past the children and into the house.  

---

"Care to put those away now?" Duke asked, tipping his head toward the guns the brothers still had drawn.  

Marston stared at the empty doorway for several long moments before sliding his gun back in its holster. Jeremiah did the same and then returned his attention to his nicked arm. "I think you overreacted," he stated.  

Marston's jaw tensed. "I owed you one," he reminded him. "Besides, what the hell was I supposed to think?"  

Duke rocked back on his heels. "That Jeremiah the beast had done swooped in and stole your woman."  

"Duke, my bullets will make you bleed too," Marston warned. Duke took a step back and pulled a cigar from his pocket, his shoulders bouncing with silent laughter.  

Jeremiah shook his head. "Marston, I ain't done nothing with Rose. I just brought the family up here and I've been keeping them safe."  

Marston took a deep breath. "You were holding her, Jeremiah."  

Jeremiah shrugged. "She had a breakdown! She starting going on a rant, started crying and then threw her arms around me. I didn't know what to do but I figured she needed a hug so I held her."

"So it was her fault?" Marston grumbled, feeling more than a little foolish.  

"Yeah, it was her fault!" Jeremiah replied far too quickly, eager to have a scapegoat.  

"There's the way to be a man about it, Jeremiah," Duke commented.  

Marston glared at the man. He was getting far too much enjoyment out of all this.

"I better go talk to her," Marston said, rubbing his sweaty neck.  

Duke nodded whole heartedly. "That would probably be the best thing to do."  

"You know what?" Marston grumbled. "I liked you better when you were a cold hearted son of a bitch."  

Without another word, Marston strode toward the porch and saw the two sets of eyes watching him warily. "Pa...?" Langley whispered.  

Marston felt his temper fade completely as he looked down at the boy's confused but hopeful face. "Hey kid. You been taking care of things around here?"  

Langley shrugged. "I've tried... I thought you were dead."  

"I almost was," Marston admitted. "But your Uncle Duke saved me. I was real sick and it took a while before I could get up and travel to come back to you all."  

"Are you going to leave again?" Kaitlyn whispered.  

Marston shook his head as he squatted down to their level. He looked up at both their faces and felt his heart swell with emotion. "I ain't leaving you all again," he promised. "At least not until God Himself comes down and takes me."  

Langley smiled. "You promise, pa?"  

Marston held up his hand. "Outlaws honor."  

Langley let out a whoop of joy and threw his arms around Marston's neck. Marston scooped the boy up and spun him around before sitting him back on his feet.

Marston patted Kaitlyn's hair tenderly as he smiled down at her. He longed to hug the girl tight but he knew that she didn't like to be touched. "Now listen, I want to hear all about your adventure you had coming here all the way from Louisiana and I'm sure that Langley's just bursting to flap that jaw, but first I need to go talk to your mama."  

"Wait pa!" Langley called. "Did you shoot Uncle Jeremiah?" the boy asked pointing at the man standing with a bloody shirt sleeve.  

Marston grinned. "Yes I did."  

Langley laughed, slapping his thigh. "That's great! Mama's threatened to do it about a hundred times since you've been gone."

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Marston stepped into the house and let out a whistle as his eyes tried to take in all the finery at once. Damn, but he’d never even stepped foot in a place this nice and now it was gonna be his home—that was if Rose decided to let him stay after the ass he’d made out of himself.

He had to make her see that he was sorry but first he had to find the woman in this mansion of a house. He rubbed at the back of his neck deciding that he'd simply have to go door to door until he found her. The sound of crashing glass above his head had him jumping.  

"Rose!" he shouted. When another crash followed the first, Marston found himself running as fast as his legs could carry him up the stairs and down a carpeted hall toward the source of the sound.  

He tried the door knob to the room but it was locked. "Rose, are you okay?" he demanded, fully prepared to break that door down and save the woman.  

"I'm fine, Marston. Don't pretend that you give a damn," snapped her voice from inside.  

Marston heard something else shatter. "That's a hell of a thing for you to say to me," he stated bluntly. "Now let me in so we can talk."  

"No."  

Marston jaw tensed and he prayed for patience to deal with her temper. He had forgotten just how stubborn the woman could be when she was angry. Another crash came from behind the door and Marston frowned. Was she throwing things?

"Rose, please let me in. I'm sorry for the way I acted outside.. Let me talk to your face, please?"  

"Oh now you want to talk?" she demanded. "Are you sure you don't want to accuse me of moving on with your brother again? Or maybe you'd just like to shoot me the same way you do everyone else who makes you angry!"  

"I would never hurt you and you know that," Marston said, forcing his voice to remain calm even while he held his hands out and shook them as if choking someone.  

"Just go spend time with your children, Marston, and I'll be down in a while."  

Marston could tell by her sigh that her temper was fading. "I don't want to spend time with the children just now, Rose. I want to spend time with you. Now open this door or I swear on my own grave, I'll kick it down."  

"Your own grave?" Rose asked skeptically.  

"It exists," he assured her. "I've seen it." He laid his forehead against the thick wood separating him from his woman. "Now please let me in. This looks like a real costly door and I'd hate to destroy it."  

Marston heard her soft footsteps come to the door and suddenly the barrier between them was pulled away. Marston took in the sight of her the way a man in the desert would take in the sight of an oasis.

Her red curls were falling around her face, having come loose from the pins in her temper. Her light skin was flushed and her heart shaped lips were set in a stubborn line. Her blue eyes sparkled like the clearest of autumn skies.  

"Don't you dare do that," Rose snapped breathlessly.  

"Do what?" Marston whispered, his gaze dropping lower. His eyes drank in the smooth skin of her throat, danced across the mole on her collarbone and fell to the swell of her breasts beneath the yellow fabric of her dress. The indent of her waist and the swell of her hips made Marston's hands itch to touch her.  

He saw the trace of swelling in her stomach where his child was growing and Marston's heart swelled with emotions. Pride, love and joy all mixed together and so intense he nearly cried out.  

"Don't look at me like that..." Rose replied, taking an involuntary step toward him.  

"Like what?" Marston asked, stepping into the room.  

"Like you loved me," Rose breathed. "Like you missed me."  

Marston frowned as he tilted his head and looked into the deep blue eyes he had missed so much. The eyes that he had dreamt of so many nights in that cell. Eyes that he had tried hard to lose himself in as death had been coming to claim him as he'd swung from the rope.  

"That's like telling the sun not to burn your skin or the rain not to get you wet. No matter how bad they might want to do what you say and make you happy, they just can't help themselves."  

"Oh Marston..."  

Rose flung herself at him and he happily caught her in his arms. He wrapped himself tight around her soft body and breathed in the scent of her curls.  

Tears poured from Rose's eyes as she pressed her face tight against Marston's chest and listened to the sound of his heart beating beneath her. He was dirty, he stunk and he had been a complete idiot outside but, God help her, she loved him with every bit of her heart.  

"God, how I've missed you," Marston whispered gruffly. Rose laughed with happiness as she pulled away and looked up into his eyes. His rough thumbs slid gently across her cheeks to dry them. "Are those the really happy tears or the other kind?"  

"They're the happy ones," Rose promised.  

Marston kissed her brow and Rose's body trembled. Marston's hands trailed up and down her back. "Am I allowed to stay then? You aren't going to run me off for being a jackass?"  

"Yes, you're staying," Rose replied, her tone stern. "And if you

ever leave me again, I’ll shoot you myself. We stay together, Marston. Do you hear me? No matter what.“

Marston looked into her eyes and nodded, though he knew he'd gladly sacrifice himself again just to offer her a few more seconds of life. "No matter what."  

Rose pulled herself out of his arms and took him by the hand. "Come sit with me." He was happy to let her lead him to the spacious bed and even happier to collapse down upon the mattress. The last few weeks on horseback after the month of hell before that had taken a toll on his body.  

"Damn..." he muttered as he sank into the mattress. "This is a bed."  

Rose smiled. "Yes. It's like a cloud."  

Marston flopped onto his back and put his hands behind his head. "I'll bet you've enjoyed it."  

"I'll enjoy it more now that you're here to share it with me," Rose replied, her eyes trailing the length of his body.  

Their eyes locked. "I want to make love to you, Rose." Blue and gold gazed deep into each other and the room grew warmer. There suddenly wasn't enough air to breathe and Rose laid her palms on his chest.  

Marston was going to raise up for a kiss but a yawn suddenly came bursting from him and he covered his mouth sheepishly. Rose simply laughed lightly and laid down beside him, curling her body up to his and resting her head on his chest. "You're tired," she observed.  

Marston sighed. "I'm not as young as I used to be."  

A comfortable silence filled the room as Marston held his woman and felt a peace he hadn't known in months. He glanced around the room and saw the shattered crystal glasses beside the window.  

A smile deepened the creases around his mouth. "What did those fancy glasses do to you?"  

Rose flushed bright red and buried her face in his chest. "Nothing," came her muffled response.

"Then why'd you do that to them?"  

Rose glanced up. "Well you throw things when you get mad so I figured I'd give it a try."  

Marston nodded. "I punch people from time to time."  

"Yes, well, you have a big head and I have little hands."  

Marston worked hard to hold back his laughter. He rubbed at his chin. "I've been known to shoot folks now and then."  

Rose winked. "You should be glad I don't carry a gun."  

Marston laughed. "God, I missed you."  

"How did you get away, Marston?" Rose asked after several more quiet moments.  

Marston sighed. "Duke showed up with a stampede of cattle and sent them running down main street. Everyone was too busy running for their lives to notice him cutting me down."  

"Cut you down? You mean you had already been hanged?" Rose's blue eyes were full of horror.  

Marston stared at the ceiling as he shivered. "Yeah. But my neck didn't break. Duke had altered the knot so it wouldn't."  

"Thank God for Duke," Rose whispered, her bottom lip trembling.  

Marston shook his head. "You better not let him hear you say that. You'd probably make him sick."  

"Yeah, but that won't stop me. It didn't stop me from saying them to you did it?"  

Marston smiled as he rolled onto his side and slid his arm around her. "I'm not God's gift to anyone, Rose. You all are His gift to me. I'm not sure what the hell I did to deserve the gift but I damn sure ain't gonna complain."  

Rose laid her hand on his cheek and when she slid her thumb along his lip, Marston kissed it quickly. He saw the hunger spark in her blue eyes. "Marston..." she gasped. He let out a growl before flipping her onto her back and covering her body with his. "I thought you were tired?" she reminded him.  

Marston flashed a wicked grin. "I'm never 

that tired.“

Rose's hands buried themselves in his hair and she pulled his face down to hers. Their lips met and Marston lost all control. Too long he had been without her. Too long he had dreamt of feeling her kiss, her touch, her soft body pressed against his own.  

He devoured her hungrily, running his tongue along her bottom lip to urge her mouth open so he could taste her. His hand slipped down to her hip then came up her soft stomach and cupped her full breast. He groaned in protest when Rose pulled her mouth away from his kiss.  

"Make love to me, Marston," she pleaded, her breathing labored.  

Marston was beyond the point of forming words as fire raged in his blood. He growled as he once again attacked her lips with a vengeance and Rose surrendered herself to his hunger.  

---

"Marston.. what happened to your back?" Rose whispered as they lay spent together beneath the covers a long while later.  

Marston sighed with contentment as he traced her bare arm with his fingertips. "The Marshall."  

Rose propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him. "Did they punish you for trying to escape?"  

"I didn't try to escape."  

"Why?" Rose asked, her brow furrowing. "I know you and lying down and dying just isn't your way."  

Marston ran his thumb along the line of her jaw. "It is when they tell me that fighting back or getting away will result in my family being killed."  

Rose's eyes widened. "But they're lawmen! They can't do that!"  

Marston chuckled. "They're lawmen and that's exactly why they could."  

Rose was silent for a moment and then kissed his shoulder, causing him to tremble. She buried her fingers in the dusting of hair on his chest and sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but, I really hope you killed that Marshall."  

"I did."  

"What took you so long to come back to us?"

Marston's lips danced across her hair. "I was in bad shape when Duke rescued me. It took a long time before I was fit to travel."  

"Did they break your hand too?" Rose asked, running her fingertip over the knot the bones had formed when they'd healed.  

Marston cleared his throat. "No.. uh.. I broke my own hand."  

"Why would you do something like that?" Rose demanded, swatting his chest.  

Marston chuckled and caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Because I was mad that every time I closed my eyes I saw this beautiful red hair." He twirled a curl between his fingers. "And this soft white skin." He kissed her bare shoulder. "And those deep blue eyes."  

"I missed you, Marston."  

"I missed you too, love," Marston assured her. "More than you could ever know." He splayed his fingers across her belly. "I didn't miss him move for the first time did I?"  

"No," Rose promised. "I've felt 

her flutter a couple of times but nothing you would have been able to feel.“

Marston nodded. "Good. A pa should be around for those things."  

Before Rose could reply footsteps came racing down the hall and someone pounded on the closed door. "Pa!" Langley's voice rang out. "Pa, I want to show you how good I've gotten at shooting! Are you about done talking to mama? You've been in there a long time. If she's still mad just give her some time to cool off. She's been having even more of those mood swings you complain about now that she's with child."  

Marston laughed loudly as Rose glared at him. "Mood swings?"  

Marston tried to quell his laughter but it was useless. "Have I told you how much I love you?" he offered.  

Rose rolled her eyes but he could see the corners of her mouth twitching as she fought back a smile.  

"Pa!?" Langley called again.  

"I'm coming, kid," Marston replied. "Just go on outside and I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay, pa!" His footsteps disappeared back down the hall.  

"Your brother has taught him things you wouldn't believe," Rose muttered.  

"Oh trust me, I'd believe them. Jeremiah taught me the same things." He kissed her nose and then leapt away when a gunshot sounded outside.  

"Damn you, Duke! You just about took my head clean off!" Jeremiah bellowed.  

"Well get your scrawny ass out of my firing lane and I wouldn't come so close to shooting you," Duke shouted back.  

"Well gee, Uncle Jeremiah, it seems like just about everybody wants to shoot you!" Langley noted.  

Rose sighed. "Welcome home, Marston."  

Marston smiled and knew he could never be happier. "It's damn good to be home."

Epilogue

Epilogue

Five Months Later

“Ugh.. I forgot how much this hurts!” Rose exclaimed as the birthing pains wracked her body.

Marston was sitting behind her in the bed and she was sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. He had his hands on her large, firm belly and he could feel it tensing and tightening beneath his palms.  

Hearing her cries of pain filled Marston with pain—as did the fingernails that she was currently digging into his thighs. He used his bandana to swipe some sweat from her brow before it ran into her eyes.  

Marston kissed her damp hair. "If I could take your pain away, I would."  

"I know you would," Rose gasped as the pain began to subside. "And if you ever get me with child again, I will shoot you in the foot."  

"Shooting me in the foot won't stop me from getting you with child," he reminded her.  

Rose snorted. "No, but it will make me feel 

better !“ The last words was louder than the rest as yet another pain hit her body. Her grip on his thighs tightened and Marston knew there would be bruises. He didn’t voice a word of complaint, though he knew there was a chance he was bleeding.

"You're almost there," the doctor spoke comfortably from beneath her nightdress. "The next time you feel a pain I want you to..."

"Yeah, yeah! You want me to push. This isn't my first time!" Rose snapped impatiently.  

Marston hid his smile in her hair but the smile quickly turned to a grimace when she let out a scream and her nails dug into him once again.  

Ten minutes, multiple screams and several curses later, Marston was holding his brand new baby girl. Never had he felt a love so all-consuming as the one he felt staring down at her squishy, pink face.  

"She's beautiful," he whispered.  

Rose beamed with tired pride as she watched him.  

Langley and Kaitlyn tentatively came into the room and perched themselves on the side of the bed. "Can we see her?" Langley asked.  

Marston motioned for them to come closer and they stared down at their sister with awe. "What's her name?" Kaitlyn asked.  

"Lucy," Rose spoke.  

"Eleanor," Marston said at the same time.  

Rose stuck out her stubborn chin as she met his gaze and he found himself chuckling. "Lucy," he agreed.  

Rose yawned as she curled up beneath her covers.  

"Children go downstairs," Marston said, motioning to the door. "I'll be down in a minute. Your mama needs to rest."  

"Love you mama," Langley and Kaitlyn said in unison as they kissed Rose's pale cheeks.  

Rose smiled a tired smile. "Love you too."  

Langley and Kaitlyn left the room and Marston laid a sleeping Lucy down in her mother's arms. Rose kissed the girl's dusting of dark hair. "Thank you, Rose," Marston said gruffly as he watched the scene.  

"For what? "she asked softly.  

"For giving me purpose," he replied. "For giving me a family and a home."  

Rose laid her hand on his rough cheek. "Thank you, Marston."

"For what?"  

"For giving me love."  

Marston smiled and pressed a tender kiss to her full lips. "I'll be giving you that until the day I die, love. You and this family are all in this whole world that matter to me."  

"Langley, give that back!" Kaitlyn's angry voice from downstairs interrupted the peace of the moment.  

"I guess you'll have to catch me if you want it!" Langley called.  

"Pa!" Kaitlyn yelled.  

Marston sighed as he stood up. "Get some rest, beautiful. I have some official pa business to tend to."  

Rose offered a sleepy smile. "Go get 'em, pa."  

Marston gave Rose and Lucy one more tender kiss before slipping from the room and closing the door behind him.  

He stopped for a moment in the hall and sent up a prayer of thanks to the Heavens. He had never imagined that he'd want this kind of life. He was a true family man now. He ran a gunshop, had learned to farm, came home to his wife every day and tucked his children into bed every night.  

Jeremiah and Duke still loved to give him hell when they came around, which was getting to be more and more often these days.  

Marston loved his new life. He was still an outlaw, through and through, and always would be, but now he was an outlaw with a family.

"Pa!" Kaitlyn yelled again. "Langley took my sewing and won't give it back!"  

“Pa, Langley took my sewing and won’t give it back!” Langley imitated her shrilly.

Marston laughed quietly and then put on his sternest face to head down the stairs and take care of his children. 

A/N: Thank you for reading ‘Give My Love to Rose’! The next book in this series is called ‘Give My Heart to Kaitlyn’.