Page 83 of Conveniently Wed
Underhill looked furious.
But he wasn’t the one who spoke. It was the federal marshal. “How do we know you won’t run with her? She’s a fugitive.”
“Well, you could take my word for it. Or you—just you, Mister Marshal—can ride along with our outfit to Cheyenne. In the meantime, we’ve got a job to do.”
His words were dismissive, but Underhill didn’t appear to want to let it go that easy.
He marched over to the federal marshal and they conferred in low tones. It looked like he wasn’t getting the answer he wanted, as his face reddened and he gesticulated angrily.
Edgar remained a cold stone mountain at her side.
“I didn’t do what he said?—”
“I don’t care,” her husband interrupted, voice dead and quiet. “It doesn’t matter to me at all.”Youdon’t matter to me at allwas the unspoken meaning behind his words.
Mr. Underhill swung up into his saddle. “I will see you in Cheyenne,” he said, his voice a cold promise.
But Fran couldn’t even feel the fear she knew she should. Her heart was breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.
Edgar didn’t believe her.
After all of this, after she’d told him the truth the entire time they’d been together, his heart was too hard.
Underhill and his cronies thundered over the hillside, scattering part of the cattle. Edgar didn’t like the way he’d taken one long hard look at Emma before he’d galloped off.
The marshal stayed behind.
“Edgar?” Seb asked quietly.
He shook his head. He couldn’t talk to anyone, not right now. “You stay with the wagon.” He leveled his pointer finger like Seb. Seb who’d gotten him involved in this mess in the first place.
“I don’t want either of the girls alone for one second. Understand?”
Seb nodded gravely.
Edgar turned to his horse. He told himself he felt nothing. That he was completely numb.
But it didn’t help. Pain and betrayal seared through him.
Fran had lied.
Straight to his face. The whole time she’d been with him.
He didn’t know about the stolen goods. The way Fran had gone pale and her lack of surprise at Underhill’s accusation, plus the fact that she’d kept something so huge from him was incriminating enough.
If she was innocent, why hadn’t she told him from the start?
She tried to talk to him as he moved toward his horse, but he had no capacity for talk right now—not without losing his temper.
How had she fooled him so completely? He, who had been determined to be unaffected by her wiles?
He felt sick, completely sick.
A stone-faced Matty sidled up to him as he made his way back to the herd. “Doubt we’ve seen the last of Underhill.”
Edgar rolled his shoulders beneath his shirt, but the tension in him remained. Maybe it was ingrained so deeply he’d never get rid of it now.
“He seemed too slick. What he said?—”
