Page 487 of Conveniently Wed
“We only talked about business.” Franklin didn’t want to rile her any more than she was already.
Her shoulders lifted and stiffened again. “So why are you here?”
Franklin gazed over the pristine whiteness toward the rocky peaks across the large valley then back toward the woman. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m going to dismount now. Please don’t shoot.” He swung his leg over the back of the horse and started toward her, taking a few slow, deliberate steps while he surreptitiously watched her from under the brim of his Stetson.
Mrs. Sullivan kept her eyes on him, only giving a quick glance toward Thomas when he shifted and his saddle squeaked. As she looked back toward Franklin, he raised his hands again.
“I need to talk to you, Mrs. Sullivan.” He handed the reins to his foreman and walked the rest of the way up toward the house, stopping a few feet in front of her.
While she studied him up and down, the woman had a weary look about her. Finally, she lowered the rifle, but kept holding it with both hands, probably so she could quickly raise it again if needed. “So, talk.”
He rubbed the back of his neck which felt stiff from all the tension coiled inside. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Mrs. Sullivan, this is my foreman, Thomas Walker.” Franklin flipped his gloved hand toward Thomas. “He actually knew your husband better than I did.”
For a moment her eyes widened, and he could read the fear in them.
“Thomas found Sullivan’s...” Franklin stopped and cleared his throat. “... your husband’s body at the edge of the Rocking V today. We brought him home to bury him on his own land.”
As if punctuating his statement, the woman crumpled to the ground, and her rifle pitched into the snow, the barrel tunneling into the few inches of the white stuff.
While Thomas quickly dismounted, Franklin rushed to her side. He slipped his arms under Mrs. Sullivan and lifted her against his chest. “You get the rifle and come in. I’m going to find some place to lay her down. Shock must’ve been too much for her.”
It had been a long time since he’d been close to a woman, and he’d never cradled one in his arms like this. Feelings he thought he’d killed long ago threatened to break free, but he stuffed them far down inside, closing and locking the door. Franklin didn’t need this kind of complication in his ordered life. But the warmth of her body nestled against his chest made him feel off balance. After he entered the house, he glanced around the room.
The cabin was well-built and showed a woman’s touch. Franklin’s quick perusal soon revealed the absence of a bed in the first room, so he paced across the floor toward the other door. After placing the rifle on the table in the main room, Thomas came and opened the door for Franklin, who gently deposited the woman on the bed covered with a colorful quilt.
“See if you can find some water for her to drink.” Mulling over what to do now, Franklin stared down at the woman.
Thomas returned and handed him the tin cup.
“Stay here with me. Can’t have any impropriety attached to her name...or in her thoughts.”
Lorinda fluttered her eyelids, trying to decide where she was and what happened. Two strange men stood beside her bed. Reality crashed in on her. Mike wasn’t coming home…ever. Tears spilled down her cheeks while she tried to sit up. She quickly swiped them away.
“Here, let me help you.” The gentle voice came from the tall rancher who had pronounced the death knell outside. His arm slid behind her back and lifted her away from the bed until she could sit on the side.
He hunkered close beside her. “Mrs. Sullivan, we need to bury your husband. Where would you like us to dig his grave?”
His gently-spoken words took a moment to sink in.Grave?Lorinda had never thought about such a thing. She knew people died all the time, but not Mike. He was such a young man...so strong and virile.
She glanced at Mr. Vine, then away. “I don’t know.” Lorinda slowly rose to her feet, and he stood, too.
“If it’s all right. with you, I’ll let Thomas choose a place. Maybe under one of the trees.” The rancher led the way into the main room of the cabin.
Lorinda followed almost in a daze. “That’s fine with me.”
Her legs still felt shaky. The news had hit her hard. She’d never fainted in her life. Not even when the pain from the beatings Pa gave her overwhelmed her. She settled into the rocking chair Mike made for her last birthday. The motion of the chair added to her feelings of unease, so she stopped it.
After his foreman left the room, Franklin Vine stood by one window and moved aside the gingham curtains to look out. Lorinda had chosen the red color to cheer up the cabin, but itwasn’t helping today. The pall of her sorrow made the air in the room almost too heavy to breathe.
The man turned and strode back into the bedroom and returned with the cup of water.Mike’s cup. The thought caused a hitch in her heart and almost led to another sob.
“Here...” Mr. Vine thrust the cup toward her. “...drink this.”
Obediently, she took the cold metal in her hands and lifted it to her lips. The water did taste good in her dry throat. While she drank, a thought hit her like a steam engine.What if it wasn’t Mike?
“I haven’t seen the body.” She hesitated when the man frowned. “I have to be sure it’s my husband.”
His frown deepened until his strong brows dipped almost hiding his eyes. “He was pretty beaten up, and we didn’t find him right away.” He paused as if he were gathering his thoughts. “I think you’d rather remember him the way he was the last time you saw him.” He shoved his hand into the front pocket of his denim trousers and quickly drew it out. “He had this on him.” When he thrust his hand toward her, a gold pocket watch lay in his open palm.
