now. I can just lay the money on Calhoun’s doorstep and leave. Because I want you more than I want to finish this. That’s why I’m still here.”
His brows snapped together, his gaze pierced hers as he realized the magnitude of her words. She was willing to give up the crusade for him. To give up this close to the end she’d set her sights on seven years ago.
“Because . . .?” His voice was faint.
“Because I love you.”
He hauled her into his arms, his hand cradling her head in one big palm as his mouth found hers.
“Don’t ever leave me again, Gilly,” he spoke against her open mouth, his voice raw with urgency. “I couldn’t stand it.”
“I promise I’ll never leave you—”
The sudden report of a rifle blast rent the air, stunning them. Shouts arose from the direction of the Calhouns’ house as a man’s voice bellowed, “She can’t be far gone. Five hundred dollars for the man who returns my money!”
Behind Jim, the gelding danced nervously. The sound of running boot heels began beating the plank walk.
She clutched his shirtsleeve, looked straight in his eye without flinching. “Come with me.”
“One horse.”
“I’ll surrender.”
“I don’t want a grand gesture. I want you.”
There was no time to make plans, to devise a future.
“Damn it all to hell!” The words erupted violently from him and then he was spinning her around, shoving her toward her horse, and turning to face her pursuers. He didn’t look back.
“Ride, Gilly! Ride like hell!”
Chapter Twelve
New York City,
New York, 1883
“You are damn lucky you didn’t get sent to prison on charges of obstructing justice.”
“Someone would have had to be in pursuit of a criminal in order for me to have obstructed them. Lightning Lil has never been charged with, let alone convicted of, any crimes. And, besides, I don’t know any Lightning Lil.”
“You’re taking up law, Jim?” his editor asked, rocking back on his heels.
“Nope.” Jim opened up the bottom drawer of his desk and started emptying it. “Besides, I still maintain that those boys were after a ghost. I didn’t see anyone in that alley, and I’d been there awhile.”
“That’s right.” His editor, Jonas, nodded. “You were drunk. And, if I remember your testimony, feeling ‘pugnacious.’ At least that’s the reason you gave for beating up on those poor men.”
“Don’t rub it in, Jonas. I feel very bad about my actions that night.” He didn’t say it with much conviction.
“Sure you do. What really went on out there, Jim?”
Jim finished piling his belongings into cardboard boxes. He sat down on the edge of his desk and looked out the smoke-fogged window at New York. He’d miss the bustle. “Well,” he said pensively, “the way I got it figured is, what with all the brouhaha that kid editor kicked up claiming my . . . er . . .wife was Lightning Lil, the real thing just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take center stage. And it wasn’t a bad idea either.” He rubbed his jaw. “I mean, seeing how he’d just been there and left, the one place in the territory she could be pretty sure the U.S. marshal wouldn’t be was Far Enough, Texas.”
“About this wife . . .”
“Yeah.” Heat burned the tips of Jim’s ears, and for once he blessed the gift of his mother’s telling complexion. “Hell, Jonas, I was bored, all right? So I sent for a, ah, friend to come and visit me. I tried to be discreet, to consider the sensibilities of the local population, and where did my chivalry get me? A courtroom appearance.”
“Would have been nice if your friend had shown up for your court appearance,” Jonas muttered. “Might have substantiated your story and got you out of there faster. Your legal bill cost a pretty penny, I don’t mind telling you.”
“Yeah, and this paper got a damn good story out of it. Plus a fine series on graft and corruption in the land speculation offices too.”
Jonas knew
His brows snapped together, his gaze pierced hers as he realized the magnitude of her words. She was willing to give up the crusade for him. To give up this close to the end she’d set her sights on seven years ago.
“Because . . .?” His voice was faint.
“Because I love you.”
He hauled her into his arms, his hand cradling her head in one big palm as his mouth found hers.
“Don’t ever leave me again, Gilly,” he spoke against her open mouth, his voice raw with urgency. “I couldn’t stand it.”
“I promise I’ll never leave you—”
The sudden report of a rifle blast rent the air, stunning them. Shouts arose from the direction of the Calhouns’ house as a man’s voice bellowed, “She can’t be far gone. Five hundred dollars for the man who returns my money!”
Behind Jim, the gelding danced nervously. The sound of running boot heels began beating the plank walk.
She clutched his shirtsleeve, looked straight in his eye without flinching. “Come with me.”
“One horse.”
“I’ll surrender.”
“I don’t want a grand gesture. I want you.”
There was no time to make plans, to devise a future.
“Damn it all to hell!” The words erupted violently from him and then he was spinning her around, shoving her toward her horse, and turning to face her pursuers. He didn’t look back.
“Ride, Gilly! Ride like hell!”
Chapter Twelve
New York City,
New York, 1883
“You are damn lucky you didn’t get sent to prison on charges of obstructing justice.”
“Someone would have had to be in pursuit of a criminal in order for me to have obstructed them. Lightning Lil has never been charged with, let alone convicted of, any crimes. And, besides, I don’t know any Lightning Lil.”
“You’re taking up law, Jim?” his editor asked, rocking back on his heels.
“Nope.” Jim opened up the bottom drawer of his desk and started emptying it. “Besides, I still maintain that those boys were after a ghost. I didn’t see anyone in that alley, and I’d been there awhile.”
“That’s right.” His editor, Jonas, nodded. “You were drunk. And, if I remember your testimony, feeling ‘pugnacious.’ At least that’s the reason you gave for beating up on those poor men.”
“Don’t rub it in, Jonas. I feel very bad about my actions that night.” He didn’t say it with much conviction.
“Sure you do. What really went on out there, Jim?”
Jim finished piling his belongings into cardboard boxes. He sat down on the edge of his desk and looked out the smoke-fogged window at New York. He’d miss the bustle. “Well,” he said pensively, “the way I got it figured is, what with all the brouhaha that kid editor kicked up claiming my . . . er . . .wife was Lightning Lil, the real thing just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take center stage. And it wasn’t a bad idea either.” He rubbed his jaw. “I mean, seeing how he’d just been there and left, the one place in the territory she could be pretty sure the U.S. marshal wouldn’t be was Far Enough, Texas.”
“About this wife . . .”
“Yeah.” Heat burned the tips of Jim’s ears, and for once he blessed the gift of his mother’s telling complexion. “Hell, Jonas, I was bored, all right? So I sent for a, ah, friend to come and visit me. I tried to be discreet, to consider the sensibilities of the local population, and where did my chivalry get me? A courtroom appearance.”
“Would have been nice if your friend had shown up for your court appearance,” Jonas muttered. “Might have substantiated your story and got you out of there faster. Your legal bill cost a pretty penny, I don’t mind telling you.”
“Yeah, and this paper got a damn good story out of it. Plus a fine series on graft and corruption in the land speculation offices too.”
Jonas knew
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