where it hung loose and curling. Lucy’s cheeks blushed pink. Their laughter was like a campfire on a cold night.
This was a moment he’d hold in his heart for the rest of his life. No song could do justice to the sight of the two ladies he…loved… Yes, loved! He couldn’t deny that was the feeling that called him to Emma any more than he could make his heart quit beating.
If only he could make his wife understand that a home wasn’t wood and nails—it was the souls who gathered in it.
“Hawker’s cooling his guns in Wichita.” Marshal Deeds’s voice intruded on Matt’s reverie.
“That’s one of the places I’ve heard.” Matt stood up. He didn’t like the feel of the lawman looking down on him.
The marshal’s gaze shifted to Emma and Lucy galloping about the barn to the wail of the fiddle.
“Pretty little family you’ve got there, Suede.”
Matt nodded, watching the fair heads bobbing to the thump of the whiskey jug. They were a greater blessing than he could ever have imagined.
“You might want to think about keeping their future secure, once Hawker gets here.”
Thoughts of keeping their future secure were the very things keeping him in an unholy state of misery.
“You seem pretty sure I’m going to lose that fight.”
“Never heard of Hawker letting a man get his gun clear of the holster.”
“Busy lawman like you might not hear everything.”
“I hear that Pendragon would give you a fair price for you to quit your homestead. That sum of money might come in handy for a widow.”
“I reckon it would, if the lady was going to be a widow. You can tell your boss that I don’t plan to be planted on Boot Hill anytime soon.”
The marshal frowned. It had to be Matt’s imagination that Deeds looked uncomfortable.
“Interesting that since you got married, Pendragon’s bank account hasn’t been robbed.”
“Purely fascinating.” This conversation couldn’t head anywhere that Matt wanted to go, so he nodded goodbye. “I believe I’ll dance with my wife a time or two before the singing starts.”
The marshal snagged Matt’s arm when he stepped toward the whirl and flourish at the center of the barn.
“Watch your back, Suede. Hawker’s fast and nasty as sin. Doesn’t care if a fight’s fair, as long as he wins it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The marshal’s fist dropped away from his elbow. Matt took another step toward Emma, who two-stepped her way toward him with Lucy giggling in her arms.
* * *
Whatever the marshal had been discussing with Matt had made his normally congenial face grow stern. Even in the shadow, where the lantern’s glow barely penetrated the corner behind Hickory Willie and his music men, Emma watched his brows press low over his eyes.
Clearly the lawman was going to need a show of wedded bliss. Certainly she could act this part without feeling seduced.
“Lucy, baby, run along over to Mrs. Sizeloff. See her there sitting near Thunder’s stall? Maybe you can get little Maudie to laugh at you.”
“Can I stick out my tongue? She’ll laugh at that.”
“Just this once.”
Emma loosened her grip to let Lucy slide down the front of her dress. She sent the child off with a gentle pat on her backside. She turned her smile toward Matt and the marshal. Surely she could play this role without losing herself in it.
Before she had a chance to pucker her lips in devotion, Matt scooped his arm about her waist and drew her into the midst of sweating, swirling bodies.
Red pranced by, dancing with Lenore Pendragon. She ought to be having a fine time without her father here to muddle things, but she looked flustered. Red whispered something in her ear that made her frown. He arched his eyebrow, then nodded.
Something seemed odd. Lenore was a typically sweet and composed young lady, as unlike her father as water to stone. Right now she seemed unsettled.
Even though every door and window of the barn was thrown open to the night, the air inside had grown heavy with the scent of new hay, rosewater and perspiration. Every now and then the evening breeze pushed inside, drawing along a whiff of cigarette odor.
Outdoors, cowboys and farmers would be gathered in an area scraped free of brush, rolling tobacco and smoking it. Even little children knew that an errant ash settling in the grass might set off a fire that would spread far and wide faster than a pony could run.
Matt’s fingers thrumming on her back made her want to lean in and dance to