Lawman In Disguise

His gaze left hers and he stared into a shadowy corner of the stall and shrugged. “Maybe. Ranching’s hard work, so I don’t want to wait until I’m too old to do it. And what I’m doing now...well, a fellow doesn’t want to stay in it too long. It’s the kind of work that can be dangerous if he’s pushed himself too far or overstayed his welcome...”

Was he doing that now, overstaying his welcome? Daisy wondered. She wouldn’t force him to leave, not before he was recovered, but that didn’t change the fact that he was making her life more dangerous every day that he stayed. Why was he lying here, wounded, in her barn? If it was true that he wasn’t an outlaw, what sort of dangerous game was he involved in, and why couldn’t he simply tell her the truth? Didn’t she deserve that?

Suddenly, she had to know. “Thorn, then why—”

“Now you know all about me,” he said quickly, before she could complete her question, “so I think it’s time you told me at least a little about yourself.”

Oh, I hardly think I know all about you. But she guessed he wasn’t ready to tell her any more now, at least. Perhaps he never would be.

“There’s very little to tell,” she said, also shrugging. “My parents settled in Simpson Creek shortly after it was founded, and I grew up here. I met my husband when he attended a social put on at the church—he’d just come to Simpson Creek to live—and we were married shortly afterward. Why, I didn’t even know his middle name till we were standing up in front of the reverend,” she added with a little laugh that contained no mirth. Marry in haste, repent at leisure.

“Which was...?”

At first she didn’t understand what Thorn was asking, and her confusion must have shown, for he added, “His middle name?”

“Oh! Wilbur,” she said, with a brief smile. William Wilbur Henderson. She’d almost laughed out loud, right there at the altar, when the reverend had first said it. It was fortunate for her that she hadn’t, though it wasn’t until some days later that she’d learned how dangerous laughing at her new husband could be. How dangerous doing anything around William could be, if he was in the wrong sort of mood.

“What did he do? To make his living, I mean,” Thorn asked.

Daisy was glad he’d clarified his question. For a second she’d panicked, thinking Billy Joe might have mentioned that his father had died in prison, and Dawson wanted to know the crime he’d committed. Or that maybe he’d already guessed how abusive her husband had been and was asking what he had done to her. She wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. Perhaps she never would be.

“Oh, this and that,” she said, trying to sound airy, as if the years of uncertainty and privation while she waited for her husband to settle into a career had never happened. “He helped build the mercantile, worked at the saloon for a while... He could do lots of things.” But sticking with a job wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t incapable, but he’d been lazy and unreliable—not to mention driven by a mean temper. Sooner or later he’d get offended by something his boss required of him, or start spending more time drinking than he did working... She’d gotten used to having little money to buy necessities, to selling family heirlooms she’d brought into the marriage just to make ends meet. Fortunately, her husband didn’t mind providing for them through things like hunting and fishing, and was fairly good at both tasks. And Daisy had worked hard at keeping a vegetable garden. So they hadn’t ever gone hungry, at least.