Fletcher's Pride Page 11

  She knew it would be hard for him to accept the baby as his. Few men would believe she’d worked in a saloon, not letting just any man into her bed. Fletcher had been the only one, yet he’d made it clear he’d never believe her.

  Perhaps because she loved Fletcher, Maddy had let herself hope he’d accept the truth. He’d accused her of thinking him a fool. The bitter truth hit her like a slap to the face. She was the fool, a silly woman daring to hope for a future with the man she loved.

  After all she’d lived through, the pain life had dealt her, Maddy didn’t understand why she’d allowed herself to believe anything would change. Frankie had warned her, tried to prepare her for the rejection she now faced. She’d waved him off. Given time, Maddy truly believed Fletcher would accept the baby as his, accepting in his heart he’d been the only man in her bed.

  As with everything else in her life, since her father left to serve the Union Army, Maddy would have to force herself to be strong. This time, it meant more than her existence. It meant doing everything she could for the safety of her baby.

  Anger swelling, mixing with the pain in her heart, Maddy drew in a deep breath. She remembered the note Fletcher wrote before leaving for Settlers Valley. The trite words, flippant thank you for all the fun they had. These weren’t the words of a man who held real feelings for a woman. The fact he’d sought her out meant little. Not with him sitting across the room, disgust in his eyes, believing she’d try to trap him into marriage.

  Standing, Maddy did something she rarely allowed herself—she let her emotions take control. Walking to him, she gave no warning before drawing back her hand, landing a blow to his face, snapping his head back.

  “Get out. Get out and don’t come back.” Not sparing him another glance, she turned, picking up her skirt as she walked upstairs, head held high, not allowing herself to look back.

  Rubbing his face, disbelief warred with a mixture of anger and admiration as he watched her climb the stairs. Fletcher hadn’t expected the blow. The intensity shocked him.

  He’d never seen her angry, never heard her voice raised. He’d never witnessed the slightest bit of deceit in Maddy, not in actions or words. The pain of her strike paled when he remembered the look on her face as he’d asked who fathered the baby. As always, he’d seen no trace of deception, only dismay and regret.

  By the time he recovered from the sting of her blow, realized he’d made a huge mistake, she’d left the room.

  Standing, he cursed himself as a fool before following. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he stared up. Speaking with her in the parlor skirted the boundaries of propriety. Going to her room would cross all limits. If anyone saw him, there’d be no turning back. Marrying her would be his only option.

  Fletcher chuckled. “Ach. You’re going to marry the lass anyway,” he mumbled, bounding up the stairs. The thought might not bring the joy he hoped, but it didn’t bring the expected dread, either.

  Seeing the one closed door, he moved to it, knocking. “Open the door, Maddy.” When she didn’t respond, he tried the knob. Locked. “Maddy, let me in, lass.”

  Waiting, he wondered how soon the aunts could arrange for them to marry. It wouldn’t be a big wedding. Family and a few friends. The women would cook while the men brought out the chairs and tables. Emma and Sarah would make a cake, something simple and pretty, as they’d done for other family celebrations.

  Celebration.

  The word caught in his mind, a thread of worry tugging at him, wondering what his family would think of Maddy.

  Lost in thought, he didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard stirring inside the room. “Open the door, lass, or I’ll be kicking it down.”

  Waiting another minute, he took a step back, preparing to raise his leg when the door opened, but not enough for him to see her face.

  “Go away, Fletcher. There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

  “I’ll not leave until we discuss the wedding.”

  The door flew open, Maddy’s red, puffy face twisted in disbelief and rage. “Wedding? You must be insane if you think for a second I’d marry you.”

  He held up a hand. “I know you’re upset with me, lass, but—”

  “Upset?” she yelled. Crossing the room, she picked up a book from the dresser. “You haven’t seen upset.” The book sailed through the air, missing his head by a couple inches. Grabbing another, she threw it, hitting him in the chest. “This child will not be raised by a man who doesn’t want him, won’t love him, and will always think of him as a burden.” Looking around the room, her gaze landed on a vase. She turned toward it, not seeing Fletcher come up behind her.

  Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against his chest. “Stop, lass.”

  Struggling, she clawed at his hands. “Let me go. I’ll never marry you.”

  Her struggles did nothing except intensify his hold, his arms tightening like bands of iron. “You’ll upset the bairn, lass. Settle down.”

  “I’ll not settle down until you leave.” Lifting her foot, she brought it down hard on his boot, feeling his grip slacken. “Curse you, Fletcher MacLaren.”

  “What in the world is going on?”

  Dropping his arms, Fletcher took a reluctant step away from Maddy. Turning, he winced at the sight of Suzette glaring at him, hand on her waist, lips drawn into a thin line. She lifted a brow.

  “What are you doing in Madeleine’s bedroom, Fletcher?”

  He walked to her, his features lined with distress. “The lass refuses to marry me.”

  “No, I won’t marry you, Fletcher. And I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.” The firm tone of her voice dared either of them to protest.

  Stepping farther into the room, Suzette kept her voice calm and low. “You told me Fletcher is the baby’s father, Madeleine. Explain to me why you won’t marry him when you’ve already admitted how much you love him.”

  Fletcher stilled at the words, his chest tightening in a painful grip. Could it be possible? Did she love him?

  Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Maddy shook her head. “Fletcher doesn’t believe the baby is his. I won’t marry a man who’ll regret it. He’d only make all our lives miserable.”

  Suzette glanced over her shoulder at Fletcher, lifting a brow.

  Leaving his arms relaxed at his sides, he shook his head. “I’d never hurt you or the bairn, lass. You’d be living at the ranch, protected, with everything you’d ever need.”

  Her gaze locked on his. “Do you love me, Fletcher?”

  Panic ripped through him. He’d asked himself the same question so many times, coming up with nothing except he wanted her in his life and in his bed. Did this mean he loved her? Oddly enough, he did feel a thread of love for the unborn child. He just wasn’t certain about Maddy.

  “I care about you, lass, and I’d do my best to be a good husband and da to the wee bairn.”

  The slight amount of hope Maddy clung to disappeared. Refusing to let him see how much his answer hurt, she lifted her chin.

  “It’s a fine offer, Fletcher. I know you’d never hurt the baby, at least not intentionally. But don’t you see? A marriage out of obligation will lead to more pain than never marrying at all.”

  He stepped closer, holding out his hand. “Lass…”

  “You’d end up despising me and the child. We’d be the reason you’d never find a woman you truly loved.” Maddy looked away, shaking her head. “I can’t marry you, Fletcher. I won’t be the cause of you hating me.”

  “I could never hate you or the bairn, lass. Maybe in time—”

  She choked out a bitter laugh. “You can’t force yourself to love me, no matter how obligated you feel.”

  Fletcher reached out to her, dropping his hand when she stepped away. He glanced at Suzette, a look of pure desperation on his face.

  “I’ll be going, Maddy.” Determination gleamed in his eyes. “We aren’t done, lass. We’re a long way from being done.”

  Chapter
Thirteen

  Circle M

  Fletcher braced his head with his hands, rubbing to relieve the throbbing ache. He’d made it home from Buckie’s well after midnight, going through one bottle of whiskey, starting another before Camden ripped it from his hand. Remembering a brief scuffle before one of his cousins lifted him over their shoulder and carried him to Domino, Fletcher groaned.

  “Serves you right, lad.”

  His eyes opened to slits at the unmistakable sound of his mother’s voice. Grimacing, he closed them again, squeezing.

  “Ach, you deserve a little pain for the way you came home last night. I was telling your da it must be a lassie.”

  Fletcher’s head hurt too much to let himself be drawn into discussing a pregnant Maddy. The thought of her rekindled his need for another drink. He’d never felt this way about any woman and didn’t understand why hot desire gripped him now. She was a saloon girl, someone he shouldn’t trust or believe anything she said. Yet he did. The realization had been what drove Fletcher to drink enough whiskey to kill most men. Today he dealt with the lapse in judgment, producing the intense pain in his head.

  “Clean up and join us downstairs for supper, lad. I’ll be taking no excuses for you not being at the table. You’ve ten minutes.”

  He winced at the sound of the door slamming shut.

  Fletcher heard little of what she said other than the word supper. He’d missed an entire day, forcing his cousins to take on his chores again. The knowledge sickened him. They’d been covering for him since before he’d left for Settlers Valley, and even now, after his return.

  His cousins knew the consequences created by his nights with Maddy, the child she carried within her—a baby Fletcher knew in his heart belonged to him. Convincing his mind proved to be more difficult. He still had unanswered questions and believed, deep down, she still had secrets.

  Everything inside Fletcher shouted for him to be cautious, a bitter chuckle bubbling inside him. He might not have a choice to be wary or not. Maddy already wanted nothing to do with him, refusing his offer of marriage.

  Carefully sitting up, he swung his feet to the floor, standing. Slipping into last night’s clothes, Fletcher took the stairs to the dining room, groaning at the sight of Camden and Bram sitting at the table with his da, ma, and younger siblings. Having to sit through their knowing looks, subtle jabs, almost caused him to head back up the stairs. If his father hadn’t spotted him, he might’ve done it.

  “Take a seat, Fletch, and we’ll be starting our supper.” Ewan’s steely gaze swept over him, taking in the red eyes, sallow skin, and miserable expression. “Quite a night, lad?”

  “Ewan,” Lorna admonished, nodding at Kenzie and the twins, Clint and Banner. Fletcher’s younger siblings hung on every word their older brother and parents said. They didn’t need to hear explanations over the supper table.

  Sliding a knowing grin at his wife, Ewan picked up the roast, taking a large piece before handing it to Fletcher. “We’ve a new contract for horses from the Army.” He didn’t miss the concern on the faces of his son, and nephews, Bram and Camden. “I’ve not agreed to the number. With the loss of those six, we’re already behind on the current contract. You lads need to tell me what we can and can’t do.”

  Holding the fork in front of his mouth, Fletcher’s hand faltered. Mouth dry, stomach roiling at the smell of food, he set the fork down.

  “Aren’t you hungry, Fletch?” Kenzie’s worried eyes landed on her older brother. “Bram and Cam said you were feeling sick.”

  “I hate being sick,” Clint chimed in, Banner nodding in agreement before stuffing another huge bite of potatoes into his mouth.

  Fletcher rubbed his forehead. “Aye. It’s not my favorite, either.”

  Conversation continued, more in the background than directed at him, for which he was grateful. He knew the food taking up space on his plate would be good, but Fletcher couldn’t summon even an ounce of hunger. Gratitude rippled through him when his father pushed back his chair, standing.

  “You and the lads go on now, Ewan.” Lorna stood, glancing at the children. “Kenzie and the laddies will be helping me with the dishes.”

  Ewan turned his attention to his son and nephews. “We’ll be talking in the study.”

  Fletcher entered last, closing the door behind him, still hoping to excuse himself from further discussion on the horse contact and anything else his father meant to address. An uneasy tension clung to him as he lowered himself into one of the leather chairs.

  “We’ll need to be riding north or into Nevada, Uncle Ewan.” Camden took the glass of whiskey Bram handed him, setting it on the nearby table. “We’ll not be able to fulfill both contracts without finding more wild horses.”

  “I’ve learned of several herds between here and Sacramento.” Bram stared into his glass, ignoring the liquid inside. “The three of us would be needing to go. Maybe Thane, too.”

  Ewan lifted a brow at Bram. “For how long?”

  “Several days, unless luck is with us. If it is, two or three.”

  “And what would you be thinking, Fletch?”

  Rubbing the heels of his hands into eyes aching from the effects of too much whiskey and regret, he rested his head against the back of the chair. He tried to forget how he’d left her the evening before, knowing she’d expected more of him. He just wasn’t sure what.

  Fletcher had seen her disappointment at his explanation of marrying him for the sake of the baby and a safe life on the ranch. From their late-night conversations, he already knew life on a ranch appealed to her. She’d always been interested in his stories of Circle M and his family. Fletcher remembered Maddy expressing her desire for a family of her own, eyes glassy, as if she’d been thinking of something far away.

  “Fletch, lad. Did you hear me?”

  Jarred to attention by his father’s voice, he straightened. “Nae, Da. What did you say?”

  Ewan repeated what he, Camden, and Bram discussed. Finishing, he tilted his head in question, waiting for his son’s opinion.

  Scrubbing a hand down his face, he stood and picked up the glass of whiskey Bram had poured earlier. Ignoring any pretense of patience, he tossed it back. A few measured steps and he stood at the window, looking out at nothing in particular.

  “It’s a good plan, Da. I’ve heard the same as Bram.” Glancing at the whiskey bottle, he shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. “There are mustang herds south of here, but north of Sacramento. The lad I spoke with said they’re hiding in the hills where they’ve shelter in the gullies. We could be gone two days or ten, Da. Can you spare us so long?”

  Standing, Ewan shoved both hands into his pockets, joining Fletcher at the window. “If you go, I need to be knowing you’ll not hold the lads back. They’ll not have time to nurse you each morning.”

  Fletcher opened his mouth to protest, closing it at the deep concern in his father’s eyes. He hadn’t buried himself in a bottle for months. In the past, long nights with Maddy had contributed more to his irresponsible behavior than whiskey.

  Last night’s journey downhill had to do with the way Maddy seemed to drift away from him, wanting his help, but not being able to accept it. At least that was the way Fletcher interpreted her declination at his proposal.

  “Nae, Da. I’ll not be forcing the lads to take on my work.” He glanced over his shoulder at Camden and Bram. “There’ll be no more miscreant behavior like last night.”

  Clasping him on the shoulder, Ewan came to a decision. “You lads and Thane will be riding out before sunrise.”

  Conviction

  Dob signed his name in the register at a shabby hotel at the end of a street near the docks. Paint peeling, sign hanging down on one side, it had three roads leading from it. Perfect for getting out of town in a hurry.

  He looked at Lew and Ross before nodding toward the stairs. “Get your gear upstairs, then meet me down here. We need to start searching.”

  A few minutes later, he stood ou
tside in the early morning sun, ordering the men in different directions, Lew and Ross staying with him.

  They’d camped outside of town the previous night, wanting to ride in at first light, ready to search for Maddy again. The woman had proven to be more than a nuisance since running from them in Kansas. The days, riding through one small town after another, had begun to fade together. Over all the miles, they’d never stopped robbing banks and stagecoaches.

  Today, Dob, Lew, and Ross would be checking the two banks in town, deciding which would be best for their next strike. As with the other men, they’d watch for Maddy, hoping this would be the last stop before making a return trip to Kansas.

  The journey had been profitable, earning them more money than they could’ve stolen in a full year in Kansas or neighboring Nebraska.

  “Damn girl.” Lew bit the words out, voicing the frustration all the men felt.

  “We have to find her soon.” Dob focused on the people around them, looking for any sign of Maddy. “The men we met in Sacramento started out the day we left there. They’ll be expecting us at the meeting place in three days.”

  Ross shot a look at him. “Are you sure you want us to get involved with them, Colonel? Seems we have a good thing going. We’ve never rustled cattle or stolen horses. Sure, we can all do it, but is that what we want? Hell, I’d rather rob a stage.”

  Lew walked between the two, feeling the tension build. He knew never to anger the colonel. Dob’s brother, Byron, had and it ended with him in a shallow grave.

  He agreed with Ross. Lew hadn’t been impressed with the outlaws who’d been stealing cattle and horses, selling them within days to whomever paid the most. A couple months before, the rustlers had made a mistake, ending up in jail. Not long after, they’d broken out, cutting a path by robbing, rustling, and if what Dob learned was true, killing U.S. Marshals.

  Unclenching his jaw, Lew slowed his pace, reaching into his pocket for a cheroot. Stopping, he struck the lucifer against the sole of his boot, lighting the slim cigar. He assessed Dob, hoping it wasn’t his day to end up at the undertaker.