Feeling quite satisfied with life the morning after Preston finally made Miranda his own, he left her sleeping and quickly washed, dressed and gave her a quick kiss to her forehead. She mumbled something and then rolled over and returned to sleep.

On the way to the saloon, he stopped at the café to grab a quick bite to eat. The place was full of other businessmen having breakfast or a quick cup of coffee before heading to their jobs. It gave him such a sense of belonging, knowing he was joining the ranks of respectable business owners.

“Well, aren’t you the chipper one this morning?” Judith poured him a cup of coffee from her pot and smiled at him.

“Yes indeed, Judith. It’s a wonderful day.”

She grinned even wider. “Sounds to me Mr. Stone that you are quite satisfied with marriage.”

“You could say that.” Hell, he hoped he didn’t come across as some love-sick fool, but the closeness he felt to Miranda during their lovemaking had never happened before. Despite sounding corny to his own ears, it was like he’d found a huge part of himself that had been missing.

Over the years he had plenty of lovers but had never experienced the sense of closeness or belonging as he did with Miranda. Not with any woman he’d ever slept with, nor any person he’d befriended in his entire life. It had to be love because he wanted to shout to the world that Miranda was his.

When he’d entered her for the first time and broke through her maidenhead, he’d felt as though he’d come home. Home to the place he’d been waiting for all his life. This was the woman who would heal all the hurts, insults, and pain, both physical and mental that he’d suffered all his life.

Truly life couldn’t get much better. Except of she became pregnant. Then all his dreams would come true.

He finished his breakfast of grits, eggs and bacon and strode the short distance to the saloon. The sweepers were busy cleaning up from the night before. Crystal offered him a slight wave as she spoke to Pat who was busy wiping down the bar and washing glasses for their ten o’clock opening.

He took the stairs two at a time to his office and after removing his jacket, settled behind his desk, reaching for the rolled-up drawings of his restaurant and hotel to check over what work the men would be starting this week.

Deep in concentration, he was startled when the door to his office opened a couple of hours later and Crystal stepped in. “Hey boss man, there’s someone downstairs looking for you.”

He leaned back, stretching his muscles from sitting for so long. “Who?”

“Said his name is Dale Jones. Claimed he was the marshal up in Dodge City until he retired to head this way.”

Preston’s heart gave an extra thump. Marshal Dale Jones was the man Miranda had told the town council had sent her and the other girls to Santa Fe to find husbands. He wanted to speak with the man and uncover whatever it was he knew Miranda was hiding, but on the other hand he was reluctant to learn what made the marshal send his wife out of town.

“Fine. Send him up.” He might as well get this over with. If he traveled all this way, he must have a good reason to be checking up on the girls. He shrugged into his jacket and sat back down, tapping his finger on his desk.

Within minutes Crystal returned with a tall, dark-haired man, with a few silver strands scattered throughout his head. He seemed to be somewhere in his forties, but in excellent condition. He carried a gun on his hip and whipped off his hat the minute he entered the room. “Good morning, Mr. Stone.”

“Marshal.” Preston waved to the seat in front of his desk. “Have a seat. Can I send for coffee or something?”

“No. Thank you, though. I just finished breakfast.”

Crystal attempted to hang around, but he wasn’t having anyone else listening to this conversation. “Thank you, Crystal. I’ll talk to you later.”

She huffed, but left the room, closing the door behind her.

“So, what brings you down this way, Marshal? Hopefully I’m not in trouble, although I’ve never set foot in Dodge City.” He tried to smile, but still too tense to do so.

The man leaned back to rest his booted foot on his bent knee. “Nope. No trouble. I’m just here to check up on some gals I sent this way a couple of months ago to find husbands.”

“I assume you are referring to my wife, Miranda?”

“That’s right. Miss Nellie told me you two married up a couple of weeks ago.”

So far, so good. The marshal didn’t look as though he was here to drag Miranda back to Dodge City. Although even if he had, he would have a hell of a time prying his wife from him. Marshal, or not, Preston was not about to give her up for any reason short of murder.

“How much has your wife told you about her time in Dodge City?” Here it was. The man’s demeanor, while not angry, was notably serious.

“Not much, I’m afraid. She is somewhat closed mouthed about it.”

Jones nodded. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t take it upon myself to tell a husband something his wife should have told him, but in this case, I am concerned about Miranda’s safety.”

His heart sped up again and he straightened in his chair. “I am quite capable of protecting my wife, Marshal.”

“I’m sure you are, Stone. But, apparently, she hasn’t told you what you need to know to protect her.”

“I’m sure you are going to tell me, though.” His mouth dried up and his muscles tightened, almost as if he waited for a blow to his middle.

Perhaps that’s what was coming.

Jones leaned forward. “Miranda has a man from Dodge City gunning for her.”

Preston’s head snapped back. “What? Why?” Damnation, what the hell had the woman done?

“Miranda shot and killed her stepfather, and I have every reason to believe his son is headed this way, looking for revenge.”

* * *

What a stupid piss-hole place this is.

Woody looked around Santa Fe as he rode into the center of town. He shifted the wad of tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other and spit out a stream of liquid from between his teeth, barely missing his boot.

Well, he wouldn’t be here long. Just enough time to eat, get drunk, tumble a few whores and find Miranda. He’d decided on his way from Dodge City that he would grab the bitch and drag her back to Dodge City. Instead of buying some whore from Miss Margie to live with him, he’d have his favorite stepsister right there to service him whenever he wanted.

When he first got her back, he would beat the hell out of her, so she would know to never run from him again. He might even take her with him when he and the boys held up a few stagecoaches. And then share her with the gang. Might even make them pay him for her.

Yes, once he got little Miranda back life would be sweet.

His first stop was at a hotel to get a room for a couple of days. He didn’t imagine it would take very long to find her. The place already made him itch with their clean streets, churches, and neat little school house. Give him Dodge City any day. His type of town. Noisy, dirty, fist-fights, whore houses, dozens of saloons. Leave it to Miranda, the preacher’s daughter, to end up here.

After a short nap he changed from his dusty clothes into clean ones. If he was going to get any type of information, he had to look more presentable.

He left his horse at the stable behind the hotel and walked the prissy clean streets of Santa Fe. Couldn’t wait to get out of this town. He passed a number of stores, and eventually, a place called The Chez Café drew him since his stomach was hollering at him something fierce.

He settled at a table, sitting so his back faced the wall and he looked out at the door. Force of habit.

“What can I get ya?” A woman on the far side of forty walked up to him, carrying a coffee pot.

He waved at the empty cup on the table. She poured the dark liquid and stood with her hand on her hip. “What will it be?”

“Whatcha got that’s good?”

She sighed. Most likely heard that question dozens of time every day. “Everything. But the meatloaf is the special today.”

“Then make it meatloaf.”

She spun and added more coffee to empty cups at a table of men sitting behind him, then disappeared through a door behind the counter.

He’d barely taken a couple of sips of his coffee when the waitress returned with a plate that she slammed down in front of him. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans and a roll. He dug in and had to admit the food was halfway decent.

He waved the waitress over. “How much?”

“Thirty cents.”

He fished out the coins and dropped them on the table. “You know a woman named Miranda? Just came here from Dodge City a while back?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What if I do?”

His heart hammered. Was it going to be this easy? “I’m an old friend. Just wanted to look her up while I’m passing through.”

She eyed him for a minute. “Give me your name and I’ll pass it along to her.”

“Never mind.” The last thing he needed was to have Miranda know he was here. The bitch would high-tail it out of Santa Fe quicker than a spooked horse.

“Where can a man get a decent drink here?” Most likely he’d find someone in a saloon who knew about a bunch of women arriving to look for husbands.

“There’s a couple of places. Three blocks south on the east side of the street you’ll find a couple of saloons.”

“Thanks.”

He stopped at the first place, The Buckhorn, a decent looking place. Woody sauntered up to the bar. “Whiskey.”

The bartender slapped a bottle and a small glass on the bar.

Woody poured a drink and turned to look at the rest of the room. At barely passed noon, it wasn’t very full, unlike the saloons in Dodge City filled with cowboys from the trail going one direction or the other through the town, keeping the saloons and brothels busy day and night.

He waved a woman over dressed in a fancy get-up who apparently was an employee. “Hey, sweetheart, you got girls upstairs?”

She drew herself up like a queen addressing a lowly servant. Highfalutin’ bitch. “No. The Buckhorn does not keep girls ‘upstairs.’ Our young ladies only serve drinks.”

Well, he sure as hell wouldn’t spend a whole lot of time here. “Ya got brothels in this place, ain’t ya?”

“Sure do.” She turned and walked away, her hips swaying. Bitch. He ought to grab her by her fancy hairdo and haul her upstairs. Show her who’s boss.

He turned back to pour another shot and yelled to the bartender. “Hey, where can a guy get a woman around here?”

“A couple of places on the next street over.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “That way.”

“Thanks.” He tossed a coin on the bar and left. He had an itch that needed to be scratched before he began his search for Miranda. If she was here all cozied up with some loser husband she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

* * *

Miranda pulled the biscuits out of the oven and placed them on the stove next to the pot of chicken noodle soup bubbling away. Preston would be home for supper in about a half hour and she was humming a tune as she set the table, quite happy with the way her day had gone.

She had worked on the books for a few hours then attempted to make curtains for the parlor using the newfangled sewing machine Preston had bought for her from the mercantile. It had sat on the shelves there for a few months before anyone was willing to buy it. It was not difficult to use, and after a few mistakes she was able to make what resembled proper curtains for the windows.

Then she used the last of the chicken they had for soup. With the cooking spoon in her hand, she wandered to the window. She had thoroughly enjoyed Preston’s attentions the night before. She blushed just thinking about how much she’d enjoyed it, and how enthusiastic she’d been. Hopefully Preston didn’t think she was some sort of a wanton woman.

Although it was unlikely she had become pregnant from just the one time, she needed to ask Preston to get something to prevent her from becoming pregnant. A child would complicate her plan to leave.

She sighed and sat on the arm of the sofa and studied the carriage that pulled up to the house across the street. A man climbed out and turned to help a woman, carrying a baby. Truth be told, she no longer wanted to run, and wished with all her heart that this lovely home, wonderful husband, and the life she’d planned as a little girl could really be hers. Forever.

That couple with the small child could one day be her and Preston. But there was no reason to believe Woody was not on his way here to kill her for what she’d done to his pa. No, as hard as it was going to be, she had to leave. Lose herself somewhere in California.

She broke into a smile at the sight of Preston riding passed the house, headed to the stable behind them. He was early, but that was fine with her. Sometimes she got lonely being here by herself all day. Only hearing her own voice. Especially when that voice continued to remind her that this life was not for her.

After checking herself in the small mirror over the sink, she untied her apron and turned as he walked into the house. She immediately went on guard. Something was not right. He wasn’t smiling and looked as though he wanted to punch something. Or someone.

“What’s wrong?” She licked her suddenly dry lips.

He stopped not a foot from her and ran his fingers through his hair. “We have to talk, Miranda.”

Preston knew. How, she didn’t know, but there was no doubt in her mind. “All right. Did you want to eat first?” Lord, her voice was shaky.

Hopefully he didn’t want to eat yet, since she wouldn’t be able to get a piece of food down her throat.

“No.” He took her hand and walked her into the parlor. They sat on the sofa and he turned to her. “I had a visit from Marshal Dale Jones today.”

Miranda dropped her head in her hands and groaned.

“Look at me.” His words were sharp, but his tone was not.

She took a deep breath and studied him. “What did he tell you?”

“I think you already know.” He blew out a breath. “We told the town council you were a respectable, preacher’s daughter.”

“I am,” she whispered.

He placed his finger under her chin. “I know. But if this gets out it could put a damper on my plans for the restaurant and hotel.”

So, the time had come. Since he knew, she might as well tell him what she’d planned from the start. Trying to control the tears that were threatening to burst forth, she stood, holding herself stiff. “Do not be concerned. I have a plan. In fact, I have had a plan since I left Dodge City.”

He leaned back, his arms crossed. “Is that so? And what is that?”

“I’m leaving.” Damn she hated how her voice shook.

He studied her for so long she almost turned and fled. “No. You’re not.”

“Yes. I am. Woody will kill you to get to me. Once we reached Santa Fe I had intended to get a job, save enough money and disappear to a place where he would never find me.” She ran her hands up and down her arms. “That was why I didn’t want to marry. Or have a child.”

Preston stood and pulled her into his arms. “Miranda, I am your husband. It is my job to protect you. You will not run.”

“Yes. I will. You just said the town council would be upset if this got out.” She swiped at the tears that were streaming unchecked down her cheeks. “I am a murderess, Preston.”

He pushed back the curl dangling near her ear. “Ah, darlin’ you can’t run.”

“Why not?” She blew her nose on the handkerchief he handed her.

“Because I don’t intend to live the rest of my life without you.”

She twisted the handkerchief, hoping he meant what she had prayed for every night since she’d met him. But did God answer the prayers of murderesses? Yet, everything in his expression told her what she wanted to hear. She held the wadded-up damp handkerchief to her mouth, muffling the words that she was afraid to say out loud. “What does that mean?”

He hesitated for only a moment, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning his forehead against hers. “It means I love you, Mrs. Miranda Stone. We have a good start and can have a great marriage for many years once we get past this one thing.”

She threw herself against his strong chest and wailed. “But this one thing could be the death of us both.”