The Bride Wore Blue Read online

  Vivian didn’t want to think about what Leon’s presence in town could mean. Carter couldn’t let him go. She understood that, but—

  “Thankfully, the activity is taking place in the center of town.” Carter turned right onto Golden, three streets above the event.

  Miss Hattie’s Boardinghouse had never looked so good. The yellow siding and white trim looked brighter than Vivian remembered. Liberty hadn’t even reached the hitching rail when her sisters gushed out the front door and ran down the steps toward her, their arms open wide.

  She was home.

  Before Liberty came to a full stop at the hitching rail, Ida stood beside them, her arms raised. Carter helped Vivian slide off the horse, and Ida’s arms encircled her, snug like a down comforter on a frigid night.

  Vivian drank in her sisters’ welcoming hugs and smiles. The dark circles under their eyes attested they hadn’t slept much more than she had last night.

  Redness rimmed Nell’s blue eyes. “I feared you were dead.”

  “I had moments like that too.” Vivian glanced at the broad-shouldered man flipping his horse’s reins over the rail. “We have God and Deputy Alwyn to thank that I’m not.”

  On the train nearly three months ago, she hadn’t considered the deputy a gift from God, but yesterday all that changed. She returned Carter’s broad smile, thanking God again for helping him find her.

  Ida squeezed Vivian’s hand and looked up at Carter. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough for bringing her home.”

  “One of those pork roast suppers of yours ought to do it,” Carter said.

  “Consider it arranged.” Ida studied Vivian from her mud-encrusted shoes to the broach-clasped blanket hiding her low-cut neckline, then up to her bruised cheek. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Morgan went to the parsonage with Judson and Tucker,” Kat said. “Should we call a doctor?”

  Vivian shook her head. “I promise you—I feel much better than I look.”

  “It’s a good thing,” Kat said, “because you look like you were dragged through a knothole and back out again.”

  “That makes me feel much better.” Vivian grinned.

  Miss Hattie seemed to glide down the porch steps. “Our girl is home. Thank God!”

  Vivian melted into her landlady’s matronly embrace, and another fountain of tears flowed over her sore cheek. There was so much to say, but …

  “Let’s get you inside.” Carter cradled her arm and led her up the porch steps behind Miss Hattie.

  Sunrays lit Vivian’s path across the pine flooring in the entryway. She took a few steps, then paused to take it all in. A vase of yellow roses on the oak table against the wall. The framed painting of the banks of the Missouri River.

  A whiff of something hearty filled her senses, and she sniffed the fragrant air. She looked at Miss Hattie, who stood at her side. “Roast beef and a pie?”

  “A New England pot roast and peach cobbler.”

  “Mmm. My favorites.” Vivian glanced up Carter. “Not that I didn’t appreciate the biscuits and jerky.”

  His laugh was like music. “No offense taken. I don’t know that the grass is any greener in Miss Hattie’s kitchen, but it’s always tastier.” He held her gaze, his brown eyes a mix of tenderness and intensity. “I have to go. Still work to be done.”

  She admired his strong work ethic and his dedication to justice, but she couldn’t help but hope the police department had already captured Leon. If they hadn’t … “Please don’t go after him alone.” Even as she said it, she knew Carter Alwyn would do whatever it took to see the outlaw brought to justice. “Be careful.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He pressed his hat onto his head.

  Miss Hattie cradled Vivian’s shoulders but spoke to Carter. “Just because we had some prayers answered doesn’t mean the prayer meeting’s over.”

  “I’m grateful, Miss Hattie.” He kissed the widow on the cheek and looked at Vivian. “I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” Vivian’s whisper sounded dreamy, but she didn’t care. Nobody could be matchmaking as heartily as she was right now.

  Carter stepped out of the Cripple Creek Police Department onto the crowded boardwalk. He’d talked to Pickett and Elton Kelso in the jail, but he learned more from reading the medical report. The doctor concluded that Pearl DeVere died of an accidental overdose of morphine.

  Stanley and Walt had captured two of the three bank robbers, but it was their leader who troubled Carter. Leon Kelso had instigated several robberies and at least one murder in this county and imprisoned Vivian. And he still roamed free.

  Carter glanced toward the gathering crowds on Bennett Avenue. If what Leon told Vivian about loving Pearl DeVere was true, the bandit could be among the mourners.

  Duty called, but Carter hesitated, and it was Miss Vivian Sinclair’s fault. The way she’d thanked him for bringing her home and told him to be careful. The silk in her voice when she whispered tomorrow made him feel like he had someone to come home to.

  The “Death March” drumbeats echoed off the brick buildings on either side of the street. The Elks Band led the funeral procession, wearing red fezzes and gold-braided scabbards. Four mounted policemen pushed the crowd to the edges of the road. A heavily draped, glass-sided hearse with shiny red wheels ambled past, pulled by sleek black horses. Red and white roses blanketed the casket, and a cross of pink carnations lay on the seat. Buggy after buggy filled with veiled women followed the hearse, many of them wailing. People from all walks of life lined the streets.

  As Carter made his way up the street toward the graveyard, he remained close to the buildings for as long as possible, tucked behind clusters of spectators. If Leon came anywhere near this rolling pageant, it’d be the mistake that snared him.

  At the edge of town, Bennett narrowed to the cemetery entrance. Very few cabins dotted that windswept part of the mining camp. A man chopped wood in front of a tarpapered shack. A boy struggled to hitch a burro to a cart. A dog howled, harmonizing with the note of the cornets.

  The ache in Carter’s temples thumped with the beat of the snare drums. Funerals brought back the past. His mother dressed in black. His aunt shepherding him through the day. People like Harry Updike standing under the oak tree, debating the futility of his father’s sacrifice for that kind of girl.

  Carter hadn’t yet reached the gate of the cemetery when a spirited stallion galloped up the hill toward him, the rider waving feverishly. Jesse from the livery. Carter strode toward him.

  “The guy you described from the saloon just left the livery. Traded an old mare for a gelding. Headed toward the pass.” Jesse swung to the ground and handed Carter the reins of his horse. “This is Reno. You take him. I’ll stop by Jon’s and let him know you’re in pursuit. Watch your back.”

  Carter swung up into the saddle and swatted Reno’s flank.

  After Carter left the boardinghouse, Vivian sank into a hot bath. A good scrubbing and a change of clothes made her feel refreshed, but it would take her insides longer to feel clean again.

  She and her sisters gathered in her bedchamber at Miss Hattie’s. Ida, Kat, and Nell had all welcomed her home, but she knew they had questions and deserved an explanation. Vivian sat in front of the dressing table while Ida pulled a brush through Vivian’s clean hair. Kat nursed baby Hope in the rocker. Nell sat on the edge of the bed, eyelid twitching in the silence.

  “You never worked at the hotel.” A frown creased Ida’s chin.

  Vivian swallowed hard. “I tried to get a job there. But, no, I never worked at the National Hotel.”

  The rocker stilled, and Kat looked Vivian squarely in the eyes. “Otis told us he saw you at that house Friday evening. He said you were wearing a wig and dressed like one of them.”

  Ida stopped brushing. “You left me on the boardwalk and strolled through the hotel door like you belonged there.”

  “Unbelievable that you could do that.” Kat raised Hope to her sho
ulder. “If you could work at a place like that, and lie about it, what else are you capable of? ”

  “Stop it!” Nell jumped to her feet, her lips quivering and tears streaming down her cheeks. “We should just be thankful she’s safe.”

  Her sisters had trusted Vivian, and she’d let them down. She’d caused them all so much pain. Heartbroken, Vivian looked at each of her sisters and breathed a prayer for the right words. “I know you’re all hurt and angry, and I’m so sorry.”

  Nell mopped her face with her sleeve. “What did you do there? Did you …” Nell swallowed.

  Vivian blinked back her own tears. “I only worked as a hostess downstairs during the day, serving drinks and food. Friday night, Miss Pearl asked me to do the other kind of work.” She glanced at Nell, who was looking everywhere but at her. “I couldn’t do what she asked. I’d gone up to her room to tell her I quit when I found her dead.” She looked up at Ida.

  Her oldest sister looked like she had a lemon stuck in her throat. “I just don’t understand how you could agree to spend time with those kinds of men.”

  Vivian pressed her lips together in an attempt to stave off the tears that stung her eyes. She had to keep going. “I know you all are mortified that I’d worked in such a place.”

  “Mostly, we were worried sick about you,” Nell said.

  “And dumbfounded.” Kat laid baby Hope on the bed. “Oh, all right, a little mortified too. How could you be that desperate and not say anything to us?”

  Ida’s sigh shifted the curls on Vivian’s forehead. “Vivian did come to me. Asked me for a job and I—”

  “This isn’t anyone’s fault but my own.” Squirming, Vivian breathed another prayer. “I know it won’t erase what I’ve done or the pain I’ve caused, but I want to tell you what happened. All of it.”

  Kat seated herself on the bed beside Nell, and Ida set the brush on the table and sat in the rocker. Vivian started with her experiences with Gregory and shared her story. From the letter she’d written to Father begging him to let her come to Paris to meeting Pearl’s girls on the boardwalk to Carter finding her near Leon’s hideout and bringing her home.

  After nearly an hour of talk and tears, Vivian folded her hands in her lap and looked at each of her sisters. Would they be able to forgive her? Now that they knew about all her offenses, would they still love her?

  Kat was the first to stand and pull Vivian into a warm embrace. “Welcome home, sis.”

  Tears flowing, Vivian stepped into Nell’s and Ida’s hugs. She was right where she belonged.

  A smile lit Nell’s face, accentuating the banner of freckles across her nose. “Seems to me you’ve left the best part of the story until last—Deputy Carter Alwyn.”

  Vivian twirled a curl dangling at her temple. “Well, let’s see now. He wears a black hat, but he’s one of the good guys.”

  “We all saw how he had to rip himself from your side.” Kat tapped the toe of her shoe on the wooden floor. “There’s more to that story, and you did say you wanted to tell us all of it.”

  “Well, like my sisters, Carter Alwyn understands grace.”

  Nell raised a thin eyebrow. “And?”

  “And … I love him. Not just because he rescued me, either.” She paused. “But because he believes I’m worth rescuing. Something I didn’t even believe of myself.”

  Nell clasped her hands. “I love a happy ending … or should I say beginning?”

  “I hope so.” Oh, Lord, may it be so.

  “Hello, my dear Sinclair sisters.” Miss Hattie’s singsong voice wafted into the room. “The fatted calf is ready.”

  Vivian felt a big smile overtaking her face and led the way to the staircase. She was nearly to the bottom step when the doorbell rang. Her heartbeat stuttered. “It could be the police. Carter said they may come to ask me questions.”

  “Oh, I hope not. We need to get some food into you.” Miss Hattie rushed past her and opened the door.

  The oldest Zanzucchi sister stood on the porch, holding a lantern and panting as if she’d just run a race.

  “Jocelyn?” Nell rushed toward the girl.

  “Eleanor said to come fetch you. To tell you it’s her time.”

  “Oh my. Oh my. The baby’s coming.” Nell looked at Vivian.

  “I’m fine.” Vivian squeezed Nell’s arm. “Go.”

  “Miss Naomi’s with her now.” Jocelyn’s breathing had evened.

  Nell smoothed the ruffles on her pinafore and pulled her shawl from the hall tree. “This could be the day I meet my son or daughter.”

  Vivian gave her sister a quick hug and watched her float down the steps toward motherhood.

  The Lord’s day.

  Perfect day for a birth.

  Perfect day for a rebirth.

  Vivian had asked him not to go after Leon by himself. Carter preferred to honor that request. In fact, company on such a mission was personal policy, one that might have saved his father’s life. Carter had been out twice with a posse, but today there wasn’t time to gather one. If he had any hope of catching up to the outlaw and capturing him, he had to act quickly.

  Did Leon know Vivian had escaped, that his cousin and son had been captured? Carter doubted the police department would have been able to keep the capture under their hats. It also seemed unlikely that Leon could have managed to spend time in town and not hear the gossip. Jesse had seen the bandit ride north, out of town. He had to be headed back to the hideout. Would he return to the cabin if he knew? Why?

  As daylight bowed to shadows, Carter urged the stallion up the rocky path toward Ute Pass. Vivian had shown him the place where she and Leon had camped Friday night. With any luck, Carter would find the outlaw camped in the midst of the same boulders.

  Every scuff of Reno’s horseshoes on the rocky path reminded Carter of the growing list of Leon’s injustices, strengthening his resolve to pursue the outlaw and hold him accountable no matter the cost. Carter now knew how his father had felt that August night when he rode out after a drunken miner and the saloon girl he’d taken at gunpoint. He knew what drove his father to buck the city council and strike out on his own. No one was above the law, and no one was below its protection.

  Once Carter reached his target area, he nudged the stallion through the scrub brush at a quieter pace. He didn’t see any smoke from a campfire, but that didn’t mean the outlaw wasn’t here. Carter tied Reno about a hundred yards from the rock formations, which weren’t easy to approach without being spotted.

  As he made his way toward the boulders, he heard faint whistling and recognized the tune, “Goodbye, Little Girl, Goodbye.” It had to be Leon.

  The whistling stopped before the end of the song. An owl hooted. A chorus of coyotes howled in the distance. Then a twig snapped twenty feet away.

  Carter’s stomach clenched. Leon knew he wasn’t alone, and he was on the move.

  Carter crouched against a wall of granite behind the scrub brush, knowing that if he was spotted, he had no protection. Heart pounding, he lifted his revolver, his finger poised on the trigger as he listened. All he heard was the rising rhythm of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Shades of gray shrouded the earth and sky. Squinting, he strained to make out any shadows on the rocks. Where was Leon?

  “Show yourself.” The Ozark accent came from above him, off to the left. “We’ve got you covered.”

  A bluff. Three men had been involved in their gang, and Leon was down two. Carter guessed Leon already knew where he was and just needed a clear shot. But Carter needed to see his opponent as well.

  “We?” he called back.

  The sound of boots scraping rocks and snapping twigs tightened Carter’s throat. He scrambled on hands and knees to the shelter of a stand of rocks and squeezed between them.

  “Guess you haven’t heard the news,” Carter said.

  Silence.

  “Bound to be real quiet at your place tonight,” he continued. “Your son and cousin are doing their talking in jail.”
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  Leon’s laugh sounded more like a growl. “You’re dreaming, deputy. One’s got a pistol aimed at you, the other a rifle.”

  “The girl who heard you arguing with Pearl, the girl you dragged up to the cabin is gone too.”

  “She killed Pearl.”

  “Self-administered laudanum killed Pearl.” More crunching and snapping. Leon was below him. “Fancy belt buckle—that racehorse. You get that back home in Kentucky?”

  “I’ll soon be tending a ranch full of racehorses while you’re fertilizing wildflowers.”

  A stone bounded off the boulders to Carter’s right, causing him to jerk toward it. A crack rang out, and a sharp shove on his left shoulder spun him toward the rocks. Fresh, dark blood streaked the boulder. His chest was sticky with the stuff, but there was no pain. All he felt was warmth.

  Was it like this for his father? Carter took comfort in that.

  The sound of calculated footsteps drew closer, and Carter slumped to the ground. Leon was coming to finish him off.

  Carter lay still, the hand that gripped his revolver hidden under a branch. While the steps drew closer, he asked God for the chance to stop this man. If it was his time to die, he aimed to make his death worthwhile.

  “You never should’ve come looking for me alone,” Leon said. A sinister laugh sent a shiver up Carter’s spine. The man who had been terrorizing his state and county stood within a few feet of him. A dark silhouette against the setting sun, Leon held his revolver at arm’s length, pointed squarely at Carter.

  Carter heaved his shoulder in an attempt to raise his weapon. The arm responded but couldn’t muster any speed.

  Before he could pull back the hammer, a powerless click echoed off the rocks. His adversary’s gun had misfired. Leon hadn’t counted on God’s intervention.

  Carter summoned all his remaining strength, and some he didn’t possess, to raise his gun. The report filled the space between the rocks and echoed across the canyon.