The Lawman (Historical Western Romance)

Chapter 4

The walk to the jail was less than enjoyable. Abigail's playful mood from breakfast had vanished in the knowledge Morgan was going to lock her back up. He'd seriously thought after leaving her in the kitchen earlier to just let her go but a small voice in the back of his head told him that would be a mistake.

Her eagerness to marry had been his first clue something wasn't quite right with her. She seemed willing to marry just about anyone, himself included, which threw off all sorts of warning bells. He didn't know why he thought so, but Miss Thornton was hiding something. She seemed almost desperate at times and that was when he decided to keep her with him instead of letting her go. Of course, telling her he was keeping her in jail hadn't gone over very well.

Getting her out of the house had been easy. He just told her to follow him and she had. When she asked where they were going and he told her to jail, she'd exploded into a ranting rage. When they stopped in front of the jail and he opened the door for her, the look on her face should have killed him where he stood. In an instant, she turned hostile. Her composure snapped and the biting, clawing hellcat from the day before returned. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Abigail, now stop fighting me."

She kicked him for his trouble when he guided her to the cell. "You are a loathsome creature, Morgan Avery! There's no wonder you're still single. I can't imagine any woman in her right mind would want to marry you."

He grinned and slammed the cell door shut with a clang. "You do, if I heard you correctly this morning. In fact, judging that kiss, you were ready to jump into my bed that very instant. Now be a good girl and..." He looked around the cell before shrugging. "Just sit tight. I'll be back soon and we'll talk about this wedding you're so determined to have."

"Let me out of here, Morgan! I haven't done anything to deserve to be in here and you know it."

"We'll talk about it later, dear." He grinned at her before righting his hat and walking to the door and out onto the sidewalk. Her shouts could be heard all the way through town and he ignored them as he neared the livery stable. Saddling his horse, he made quick work of it and headed for the ranch.

The valley leading out of town gave a clear view all the way to the mountains in the distance. He paid little attention to the budding life spring usually brought with it. His mind was too cluttered with thoughts of Abigail.

When he reached the ranch, riding under the metal arched entrance at the gate, he inhaled a deep breath. Fresh grass, horses and wood smoke reminded him of a childhood spent roaming the pastures and learning how to wrangle horses. Seeing the ranch house, with its blue shuttered windows and bright flowers dotted along the walkway brought thoughts of his mother to mind. It was also a reminder of his father's declining health since her passing. That was the main reason he stayed in town. The memories were less painful if he didn't have a daily reminder of them.

Riding toward the barn, he grinned as he watched Alex, his eight-year-old niece, in the corral trying to lasso a pony. He jumped from his horse, handing off the reins to one of the hired hands before walking to the fence. "You've got to get closer than that, sweet pea."

Alex turned to look at him and her face lit up. She grinned, dropped the lasso and ran to the fence. "What you doing all the way out here?" she asked. "Pa said you had yer hands full with some cat in town."

Morgan laughed. "I do but I can always spare a minute for my favorite niece."

She rolled her eyes and shimmied through the corral fencing. "I'm yer only niece."

Alex was also the only girl he'd ever known that didn't realize she was one. She hated all things lacy, preferring trousers and a good sturdy horse to dresses and dolls. The old hat she wore was battered and worn, a relic from his youth. It had been handed down to his little brother, Tristan, until he'd outgrown it and stored it in the attic until Alex found it, preferring it to the fancy dress hat she'd gotten as a birthday present. Morgan tipped the front of the hat up so he could see her face and rubbed at a dirty spot on her cheek. "Still my favorite all the same," he told her. When she grinned at him, he turned toward the house. "Where's your pa at? I need to speak to him."