street. 'There's Mrs. Steele now.'
A woman peered out of the front of the carriage. 'Henry?'
Walker touched the brim of his hat. 'Morning, ma'am.'
'Good morning, Sheriff.' Sarah's head and face were hidden in a cloud of black mourning veil. 'Henry… I'm going out to the cemetery, and I wondered if you-'
'Want to go with you?' Henry finished. 'Certainly.' He handed Walker his cup. 'Take this back to the saloon for me, will you?'
Henry descended the slippery steps to the street. Sarah slid over on the buggy seat as he climbed in and took the reins. 'What are you doing out on such a nasty morning?'
She rubbed small, black-gloved hands together nervously. 'The rain,' she said. 'I thought about Sam's grave, all bare. I wanted to take some wildflowers to lay on it.'
Her voice sounded as though she'd been crying. Henry's throat constricted. His brother was a son of a bitch with a rotten temper, but he'd never wanted to be rid of him that way.
'It was a bad end,' he murmured. 'Murdered in his own stable by a ruthless woman.'
Sarah brought a lace handkerchief to her face. 'I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about it… the way he looked, lying in his casket, so white and still.' She broke down and began to weep.
'Don't cry, Sarah. I can't stand it when you cry.'
The buggy rolled past the last house and onto the rutted lane that led to the church and burying ground. 'Sam was a difficult man to live with, but I never wanted him dead.'
'Neither of us did,' Henry agreed.
It was damned hard to keep his conscience from nagging him. He and Sarah had loved each other for more years than he could remember. Everyone had assumed they would marry until a stupid argument over another girl had broken them up. Hell, he couldn't even remember the other woman's name now. Sam had stepped in and started squiring Sarah to dances and church dinners, and before either of them realized it, it was too late to patch up their falling out.
Sarah had married Sam, and he'd tried to make the best of it. He'd thought he could love Sarah from a distance, and he had until things between her and his brother deteriorated.
'I'm a terrible sinner,' Sarah whispered. 'I made a mockery of my marriage vows and-'
'Not alone you didn't.' He slipped an arm around her. Sobbing, she leaned against him. He let the lines fall, and the horse stopped. 'No more tears,' he begged her. 'Sam's dead. He's dead, and we're alive.'
'I wanted you to take me away,' she answered in anguish. 'But now he'd dead and he'll always be between us.'
'It won't be like that, I promise.' His heart ached to see her like this, clad in black widow's weeds from head to toe. Sarah liked fine clothing, bright colors. He'd give them to her again.
'Never.' She wept softly. 'You don't understand. There's something I have to ask you…'
'Ask me? Ask me what?'
'Did it happen the way you said, Henry? Did that MacGreggor woman shoot Sam?'
He stiffened. 'Why would you ask me that, Sarah? Haven't we been over this a dozen times?'
'It's just…' She pushed the veil away to look into his face. 'He knew about us.'
'Hell, yes, he knew. What's wrong with you, Sarah? What did you think that argument was about, the last time I saw him alive? When he threw me off the Lazy S.' He lifted her chin and met her questioning gaze. 'Do you think I killed him? My own brother?'
More tears spilled from her swollen eyes. 'No… I don't… I wanted to hear you say it, say you had nothing to do with… with what happened.'
'Don't even think such a thing. Sam caught Tamsin MacGreggor stealing his horses, and she shot him. I'm as innocent of his death as you are. And I'm as anxious to see justice done.'
'I prayed to be rid of him… but not that way. Never that way,' Sarah said.
'My brother's death won't go unpunished. I'll see the MacGreggor woman hang if it's the last thing I do. The Bible says, 'An eye for an eye.' I would have shot her that night if I could, but I'll settle to see her dangle from a rope in front of the courthouse.'
'Her death won't change anything. It won't bring Sam back, and it won't change what we… what I did.'
'I love you, Sarah. I've always loved you. We'll wait a decent time, and then we'll be married. Just as we should have been a long time ago.'
'I was miserable with him, and now that he's dead, I'll always be unhappy.'
'Don't say that. You're all upset, and rightly so. You were a good wife to him, Sarah.'
'A good wife?' She made a small sound of despair. 'When I slept with his brother like a common harlot?'
'Never say that again,' he admonished. 'What happened is in the past. The future belongs to us. We'll get through this, see justice done, and then we'll be wed.'
'You don't understand.'
'I do. And I have to live with the fact that I betrayed him with-'
'But I'm with child.'
'What?' Stunned, he stiffened. 'You're what?'
'I'm going to have a baby.'
His chest felt as though it were squeezed in a vise. All these years he'd secretly envied his brother, and he'd been glad that his marriage was barren. But now that Sam was gone, was it possible that he'd have to live with Sam's son?
'Say something?' she begged. 'Tell me you're glad.'
'Sam's child? You're having-'
'No, you great ninny! Not Sam's. We haven't been together in years… not like that. It's yours, Henry, your child.'
'But… but…' Dumbly, he began to grin. 'Mine? Ours?' Joy bubbled up inside him. 'My son?'
'Or daughter.'
'You're not pleased?' She didn't sound pleased. Sarah had always said she wanted children, but…
'Of course I'm pleased, Henry. Why wouldn't I be? It's just that now… now, we can't marry. Not for months, maybe years. People will talk. They might guess that-'
'Hell with what people say,' he said. 'What difference does it make what gossips blab about? What could be more natural than I'd marry my brother's widow and care for-'
'His child, Henry. Unless we want our child branded a bastard, it must always be Sam's child.'
Suddenly, a thought struck him and he sobered. 'Did he know? Did my brother-'
'He knew,' Sarah said brokenly.
'A son.' Henry leaned close and kissed her lightly on the mouth. 'Nothing could make me happier,' he said. 'And I'll make you happy. I swear it. I'll protect you and care for you, Sarah. And I'll make you forget all this unhappiness.'
'Will you, Henry? Can you?' She touched his cheek with a gloved hand.
'I swear to you, we'll make a new life. Here or somewhere else, the three of us.'
'Yes,' she agreed. 'I want to go away, back to St. Louis, back to civilization. I want to forget what happened here.'
Around the bend, toward them, came the minister's chaise. Quickly, Henry released Sarah and picked up the reins. 'We'd best take those flowers of yours to the grave.'
'Yes,' she answered. 'We should show proper respect. Flowers make a grave less… less…'
'Good morning, Reverend,' Henry called to the minister.
'A blessed day to you, Judge, and to you Mrs. Steele,' the cleric replied.
'Reverend,' Sarah said.
Smiling, Henry clicked to the mare and drove on through the pouring rain.
The first light of morning found Tamsin and the war party riding up mountainsides and plunging into ravines that she wouldn't have believed a goat could traverse. Low-hanging branches scraped at her skin and hair and tore her clothing. Thirst plagued her, and it was impossible to forget Buffalo Horn's threats of burning.
If she let her mind dwell on torture, she would lose all reason. She kept remembering the Indian she'd shot at
