Wendy Douglas - The Unlikely Groom

“We don’t have a sheriff.”

“Well, there must be some law enforcement here.”

“Deputy Marshal Taylor. But you don’t want to go to him.”

“Of course I do!” Ashlynne pulled herself up to stand as tall and imposing as she could. Even at that, she was hardly a match for Lucas’s size and she knew it. She conjured up a deep scowl to help with the illusion of strength. “I didn’t see him last night and I have a number of questions—not the least of which is if he has any idea who murdered my brother!”

“You won’t get answers from Taylor.”

“Surely he must have begun to investigate the—” she paused, swallowing the sudden lump at the back of her throat “—shooting by now. He must know something, and he won’t know where to find me.”

“You don’t want to see Taylor,” said Lucas again, his tone growing more insistent. He straightened from his casual pose and offered an answering scowl. “He won’t tell you anything. If you know what’s good for you, Ashlynne, you’ll just forget it.”

“Forget it?” Ashlynne’s voice rose in octave and strength. “How can you suggest such a thing? I would never do something like that! Ian was my only brother, the last family I had left. I have no intention of forgetting what happened to him. I mean to make certain that justice is served, and I’m sure that Deputy Taylor feels the same way.”

“Don’t be naive.”

“Naive? I only expect the law to do its job.”

“Listen, Ashlynne.” Lucas started in her direction, then he stopped and shook his head. “Deputy Taylor doesn’t give one good goddamn about the law. Or you. He’s Soapy’s man, and if you don’t want to end up like your brother, you’ll leave it alone.”

“Soapy’s man? What are you talking about?”

“Rumor has it that your brother got himself involved in a card game with one of Soapy Smith’s henchmen. It might have been crooked—hell, it probably was crooked. Doesn’t matter. Ian accused the man of cheating and you know what happened after that. Whichever of Soapy’s men it was, he’s long gone. And even if the shooter comes back to town, it won’t matter. Soapy’s word is law around here, and nobody’s going to take up for a cheechako they can’t remember.”

Undisguised fury fired her blood. “I remember him.”

“Fine.” He answered in a tone angry enough to match hers. “Remember him. Build a shrine to him. Do anything else you want. But for God’s sake, leave the law out of it. You’ll only draw Taylor’s—and Soapy’s—attention to yourself. And that’s the last thing you want to do.”

S he hadn’t listened to him.

Lucas stalked down the boardwalk that fronted Broadway, ignoring the whispers and sidelong glances. He had neither the patience nor the time for polite chitchat and he wanted everyone to know it. He’d been careful to build his reputation as a man who kept his distance from others, but today that didn’t seem to matter to anyone besides himself.

He’d broken his own rule last night, and that, it seemed, had changed everything. At least as far as his fellow Alaskans were concerned. He’d taken Ashlynne back to the Star after the shooting—rescued her, people were saying. Now they wanted to know why…and what else might have happened after that.

He wasn’t telling anyone a damn thing.

Frowning, he added a steely glare of disapproval to keep the curiosity seekers and gossipmongers from approaching him. There wasn’t anything to tell, except that Ashlynne Mackenzie didn’t drink spirits…and she didn’t listen to advice any better than she held her liquor.

The damn woman had ignored everything he’d said. She hadn’t even pretended to listen. She’d simply settled her cloak around her shoulders, turned her back on him and walked out of the Star without a backward glance.

He hadn’t wondered where she was going. He’d known. She was on her way to see Taylor, no matter what Lucas had said…and he’d meant to let her go. She needed to learn the truth about Soapy Smith’s hold over Skagway. If she had to do it the hard way, then that was a choice she made on her own. Lucas had given her the chance to do things the easy way, and she hadn’t believed him.

He refused to follow her in this folly.

He’d had second thoughts almost immediately—and he’d squashed them down just as quickly. He’d gone about his morning routine, changed his shirt and splashed cold water over his face. Surely that would clear the cobwebs from his cluttered mind.

It had done precisely that…though not in the way he’d meant it to. Thirty minutes later he’d headed out after her—and the second thoughts had returned twofold. This time for far different reasons.

He hadn’t listened to any of them.

Second thoughts weakened a man, crippled him…even killed him. They’d done their best to kill the old Lucas Templeton. In his place, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, another man had come to life. A man who followed his instincts.

Even when he knew he was making probably the biggest mistake of his life?

The biggest mistake of this life, he clarified for himself. He’d made far bigger mistakes in his former life, but they didn’t count for anything anymore. He couldn’t let them.

The life he’d made in Alaska was the only life that counted for anything.

Blinking, Lucas walked away from his maudlin thoughts by stepping down to the icy, half frozen and half muddy, rutted street. He crossed at the intersection and then stepped up onto another section of boardwalk. The walks weren’t particularly well built, but they kept a man’s feet free from the muck and mud and manure created by the steady stream of horses and wagons that churned up the roads, even in the middle of winter.

No matter how far he went, he couldn’t escape himself. And no matter how hard he worked to force it away, there was one question that refused to leave him in peace: why had he listened to the part of him that insisted on going after Ashlynne after she’d walked out?

But he knew. It was that damned sense of decency that he’d thought he’d left behind him eons ago. It had reared its ugly head last night and gotten him into this mess to begin with. Couldn’t a good night’s sleep—or at least a few hours of dozing in a chair—have cleared up that bit of nonsense once and for all?

Apparently not. Lucas couldn’t seem to forget that Ian’s murder changed everything for Ashlynne. She might not understand—or want to acknowledge—the significance of her altered circumstances, but that didn’t change the truth of it any. Her brother’s death put everything at stake for her and in an entirely different way.

If she had grasped that one unchangeable fact, she wouldn’t have marched off to find Deputy Taylor.

Lucas shook his head. Ashlynne had no idea what kind of trouble she would be inviting if she asked the deputy to find Ian’s killer. Justice, vengeance—her reasons didn’t matter. Taylor wouldn’t hear of it, Soapy wouldn’t stand for it…and Lucas couldn’t seem to force himself to let her fend for herself against the others.

The marshal’s office wasn’t far now, but Lucas found he had to look to find it. New structures seemed to spring up in town every day. Some were constructed of lumber, while others were nothing more than canvas tents. Still others were a combination of both. Skagway boasted hotels, restaurants, outfitters, a hardware store and a druggist. There was even a hospital and Reverend Dickey’s Union Church, built last fall.

The sound of voices, one raised in anger, echoed from up ahead of him and a moment later Ashlynne backed out onto the boardwalk. “The proper authorities will hear of my treatment here today, sir. You can be certain of it.” She slammed the door shut behind her.