Everyone in the church, including Burnsey, Chance, the minister and Fanny, all turned to stare at Trixianna’s sister. Georgette squeezed Trixianna’s fingers, then gave her a warm smile, which she then turned on the waiting assemblage.
“You don’t know me, but I guess you can tell by looking that I’m Trixianna’s sister. She’s explained all that has happened since she’s lived here.” She gazed out over the congregation. “I’d say it was quite a lot.”
Several people tittered, and Trixianna heard a few loud guffaws from some of the more outspoken persons present.
“Anyway, the thing is, she’s not a bank robber, or anything else the sheriff says she is. She’s just the best sister anyone could ever ask for.” She put her arm around Trixianna’s waist and hugged her.
A lump formed in Trixianna’s throat. The shadow that had entered her heart when she and Georgette had their falling out lifted. She held back tears of joy.
“What does this have to do with the wedding proceeding as scheduled, young lady?” asked the minister.
“I’m getting to that, sir.” Georgette glanced at Chance who returned her serious, knowing look with a contagious smile all his own. Georgette smiled back. “My sister loves the sheriff.”
“And Chance loves her,” added Rider. He ambled over to where a red-faced Chance stood. “Don’tcha, big brother?”
“I’m confused,” confessed the minister. He scratched the top of his balding pate.
“Well, hell.”
“No swearing in church, Sheriff.”
Chance ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “Well, hell, Parson, if this doesn’t call for some good old-fashioned cussing, I don’t know what does.”
The minister frowned at Chance before continuing. “Let me get this straight. The English fellow loves Fanny, and Chance loves this woman’s sister. So why are Chance and Fanny the ones getting married?” He leaned down and whispered to Fanny, “Whom do you love, Miss Fairfax?”
She blushed scarlet. “I do love Alastair.”
The minister lost his control. Close to shouting, he bellowed in an impious tone of voice, “Then why in blue blazes are you marrying the sheriff?”
Fanny’s eyes widened and, if possible, her blushed deepened. She stuttered, and stammered, but nothing came out except gibberish. Burnsey glared at the minister, then threw a comforting arm around Fanny’s shoulder. She moved closer to him, her eyes shining with a loving, thankful glow.
“Why didn’t you say something, Fanny?” Chance asked. He leaned down to peer into her face. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
“It was,” she said.
Burnsey slapped Chance on the shoulder. “I never meant for this to happen. We just took to each other the first time we met, didn’t we, Fanny love?”
Fanny nodded.
“That’s neither here nor there,” Chance said. “I just can’t believe Fanny would go ahead and marry me if she loved you.”
“I accepted your proposal of marriage,” Fanny said.
Chance frowned. “As I recollect, you proposed to me.”
“You did?” Burnsey beamed at his beloved. “Why Fanny, you forward woman, you.”
Fanny ducked her head. “I didn’t want to humiliate Chance by backing out at the last minute.”
Chance stared at her, baffled. “You would have gone through with this farce of a marriage because you didn’t want to humiliate me?”
“Truth to tell, I felt it was my duty.”
Burnsey touched Chance on the shoulder. “Let’s just forget this whole unfortunate incident. If you don’t mind, I’d like a word in private with Fanny. I want to tell her how I’ll change my ways and become the man she wants.”
“From now on, just try staying out of the saloon, Burnsey,” Chance muttered. “That seems to be where you get into trouble.”
Burnsey nodded his agreement. “Yes, sir, Chance. You’re absolutely right.”
He walked Fanny back down the aisle, their heads bent in conversation, oblivious to the shocked stares that followed them. The door swung shut behind them as they disappeared into the foyer.
Not thirty seconds later, Harvey Perry burst through the door. “Sheriff! Come quick,” he whispered in his ear. “Someone’s robbing the bank!”
For a instant Chance searched Trixianna’s face. Then he sprinted down the aisle and out the church.
Mad Maggie West thought her luck couldn’t get much better. Not only did the twin sister, Trixianna, have the key to the jail cell, but she hadn’t even questioned why Sister Mary Margaret wasn’t going to accompany them to the church. Trixianna had accepted her regrets without hesitation.
The stupid woman had believed Maggie’s concocted story about resting at the hotel until the sheriff could conduct her home. Oh, my, wouldn’t the sheriff be surprised when he left the church? And to sweeten the pot, almost every living soul was at that wedding.
Maggie hurried down the empty boardwalk, her hands inside the sleeves of her habit, her head bent against the rain. She stopped in front of the bank. Someone had posted a sign on the door. Back at four, at the sheriff’s wedding.
“Excuse me, Sister.”
Maggie’s heart momentarily ceased to pump as she whirled to find the young man from the train standing behind her. It started up again when she realized he wasn’t the law. “Yes?”
“Remember me? I’m Jonathan Lacina.”
At her nod, he continued. “This sounds crazy, I know, but I’ve been wandering this town for almost an hour and I can’t find a single living soul. All the shops are shuttered and closed. It’s a regular ghost town.”
“It is very quiet. But I understand there’s a big wedding going on. I didn’t leave your wife alone. Your sister-in-law showed up. They said they were going to the wedding. A friend of your sister-in-law’s, I believe. I was exhausted so I thought I’d try to find my own accommodations.”
“I’m sorry, you must have gotten tired waiting for me to return.”
“It wasn’t a bother at all, young man.”
“Thank you for saying that.” He pointed down the street. “That looks like the church there. I’ll just mosey on over unless there’s something I can do for you.”
“There’s really no need, young man, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“No offense intended, Sister.”
Maggie patted his hand. “You just run off now and find that pretty little wife of yours.”
He lifted his hat and smiled before turning down the boardwalk. “See you later then.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Lacina.” Maggie smiled, resisting the urge to swat his backside to get him moving. He was a fine-looking young man, although a bit stuffy for her taste. Still, she couldn’t help but admire his attractive male body as he strode away.
A married man. Maggie, you should be ashamed of yourself.
Maggie grinned, and waited until he disappeared. Then she looked both ways down the street, slipped inside the bank’s locked doors with the help of a clever, criminal tool—a hairpin.
The vault stood open. Maggie had to stop herself from rubbing her hands together in glee. Like taking candy from a baby.
“Hey!”
Jonathan wanted to ignore the authoritative male voice and find his wife, but better sense prevailed. Georgette wasn’t going anywhere.
He stopped and waited for the man to catch up. As he came nearer, Jonathan saw the star pinned to his vest. They were about the same age, but there was an enduring strength etched in the fine lines around his eyes and mouth. He turned weary, gray eyes on Jonathan and held out his hand. “Donald Boyle, sheriff of Dena Valley.”
“Sir.” Jonathan shook his gloved hand. “Jonathan Lacina.”
“Do you live here?”
“No, sir.”
“Would you mind telling me your business in Grand Fork?”
“Not at all. I’m here with my wife, Georgette, visiting her twin sister.”
“And her name?”
/> “Trixianna Lawless.”
He stroked his chin, regarding Jonathan carefully. “I see. When did you arrive?”
“About an hour ago. I left my wife with a nun at the train station and went on to see if I could find Trixianna myself. Funny thing about that nun, too, Sheriff, she and Georgette and Trixianna, why they could have all been related they looked so much alike.”
“Did they now?”
“I’ll say. Anyway I didn’t want Georgette to have to walk all over town in this rain.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But so far, I haven’t found any living soul, besides you, of course…and Sister Mary Margaret. She told me there’s a wedding going on, so that was where I was headed.”
“And this nun?”
“She’d stepped in the doorway of the bank, probably to get out of the rain.”
“Holy Moses!” Sheriff Boyle hollered. He grabbed Jonathan’s arm and swung him in the opposite direction. “You’re coming with me, son. I believe we’ve got a bank robbery in progress.”
“What the—?”
Trixianna watched with wonder as Fanny prepared to wed Burnsey. With Chance no longer the preferred groom, Fanny decided to take Burnsey up on his offer of marriage. Immediately. After all, the church was already decorated and full of well-wishers, and the confused minister was willing. Why wait? Eloise Fairfax herself was relighting all the candles and straightening the flower arrangements.
“I just love weddings,” Georgette whispered to Trixianna. They were seated in the last row of pews watching the shenanigans. “Don’t you?”
“Ordinarily I do, but don’t you think this one is a mite peculiar, Georgie?”
“I know, but Mr. Burnsey’s declaration of love made it so romantic. It was lovely. You don’t mind if I stay and watch?”
“No, of course not, but I just can’t stay. If I see Jonathan, I’ll send him over. In the meantime, I’ll just go pack my things. In all the confusion I think I can disappear and we can be on the afternoon train home to Abilene.”
Georgette cocked her head, then wrinkled her nose. “I understand. What about the sheriff?”
Trixianna sighed, her heart heavy in her breast. “He never said he loved me. He didn’t even ask me to wait.”
“But I saw the tenderness on his face when he looked at you. He cares a great deal.”
“Enough to marry me?” Trixianna shook her head. “I don’t think so. If he was willing to marry Fanny, and he didn’t even love her, what does that say about me?” Or about what we did together last night? She refrained from mentioning that to Georgette, however.
“Maybe he just didn’t feel it was appropriate to say anything to you considering he was already engaged. After all, what man uses normal logic anyway? He was taking Fanny to wife and that was that.”
“That was that.” Trixianna sighed again and turned to go. “Enjoy the wedding. I’m going home to pack.”
The rain hadn’t stopped. It just continued to fall from the sky in a dismal downpour. In her rush to leave the church, Trixianna forgot her cape. Wet, cold, and disheartened, she hardly noticed as she dashed across town toward Chance’s home.
She pulled the door open, welcome warmth enveloping her near-frozen body. Angel met her with a meow, curling his body around her leg. She picked up the cat and hugged his soothing white fur against her face. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. I’m sorry I forgot you this morning. Other things on my mind…”
She poured him a saucer of milk, then sliced off a bit of leftover roast chicken and handed it to him. With tail twitching, he stalked off to find a quiet place to eat.
“I really am sorry I neglected you,” she muttered as she watched him stalk away. “It’s not been a very good day.”
In her room, Trixianna pulled her dress off over her head and untied her petticoat, then dropped it onto the floor. She caught her reflection in the mirror. Startled by the image, she leaned closer and stared.
Spotted with dirt, her cheeks and nose looked like they had grown a dozen new freckles. Mud stained her hair, too. It hung in tired russet-and-brown ringlets down her back and into her eyes. She choked back a tired laugh. Shaking her head, she wandered back to the kitchen, dressed only in her pink silk chemise and drawers to heat water to wash her hair. She certainly couldn’t go out in public looking like this. As she pumped water into the kettle, she smiled, remembering another time when she’d been concerned about her appearance…
Chance had lain flat on his back in her parlor bleeding on her braided rug from a gunshot she’d inflicted. From this less-than-advantageous position, he’d arrested her. But before she left the house she’d insisted on fetching her bonnet. Chance may have hauled her off to jail after she’d shot him, but she’d made sure she saw to the proprieties first. A lady didn’t go out on the streets without something covering her head.
Now look at her. Racing through the muddy streets in the rain with young boys, traipsing around town in a ruined dress with hair that looked like it belonged on a ragamuffin’s head. And she didn’t care. She actually found it laughable.
She set the kettle on the stove, then sat down at the kitchen table and suppressed a giggle.
“What’s the joke?”
At the sound of Chance’s familiar voice, Trixianna jumped to her feet. He’d come in by the back porch, so he was out of sight. She heard him grunt as he tried to remove his boots. It sounded like he was hopping from one foot to the other. One boot thudded on the floor, followed by the other. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get to her room without passing him. She stood rooted to the spot.
“You’ll be happy to know we just arrested the real Mad Maggie West when she tried to rob the bank. She was dressed as a nun.”
“What!”
“Yup. Damn good disguise, too. Your brother-in-law even helped out by pulling a knife on her as she tried to make her escape. Kept it in his boot.” His eyebrows shot up as he smiled at Trixianna. “He’d make a right jim-dandy lawman. The Dena Valley sheriff, Boyle, is taking her back right now. Your sister and brother-in-law are at the hotel…”
Chance sauntered into the kitchen in his socks. He tossed his hat onto the table, then turned his gaze toward her and stared. His eyes widened when he saw how she was dressed…or rather, not dressed.
Trixianna attempted to cover herself as she dashed around the table to escape his searching gaze. Chance had other ideas. He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Whoa there.”
“Chance,” she wailed. “I’m not dressed.”
“I noticed,” he drawled. A grin played about the corners of his twinkling blue eyes. He pulled her into his arms, then tipped her chin up with his thumb. Peering at her intently, he asked, “What are you doing?”
“Washing my hair.”
He glanced at the stove and the kettle which wasn’t even beginning to boil, because she’d hadn’t thrown any wood in. “Did you forget something?” he whispered in her ear.
Trixianna forgot her hair, her bedraggled condition, everything but the man who held her in his arms. In Chance’s snug embrace her nipples hardened, pressed against his wet shirt. Her skin tingled. She shivered. “You’re all wet.”
He looked her in the eye, a playful glint in his expression. “So I am.”
He didn’t release her. His mouth twitched with amusement. “You know,” he murmured. His voice lowered to a low, languid drawl. He dropped a kiss on her nose. “You look good enough to eat.”
Trixianna gasped. The slow-smoldering flame she saw in his eyes heightened her awareness of his hard body against the length of her nearly naked one. She swallowed hard.
“Do you know what else I’m thinking?” he asked.
“That I’m covered in mud and smell like a pigsty?”
“No, not quite.” One of his hands moved down her back, pushed her chemise up and clasped her silk-clad bottom. He pulled her up against him. His arousal pressed against her stomach. “I’m thinking that you have the fanciest drawers this side of the Missis
sippi…and how much I’d like to see you out of them.”
Trixianna shoved against Chance’s chest and withdrew from his arms. His eyes widened.
Desire raced through her body. Maddened at her inability to control her desire where Chance was concerned, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and marched to the stove. She had it stacked with wood and lit before Chance had drawn a breath. She turned back to him, her hands on her hips. He stood watching her, a critical squint in his eye. “You shouldn’t parade around like that,” he said. “Rider might walk through that door any minute.”
“You listen here, Mr. Magrane. I am not parading around. You have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do. I’m no longer under arrest, am I?”
“Well, no, but—”
“So I can do whatever I damn well please.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Except talk like that.”
“Oh, pooh. First, I’m going to wash my hair because it’s a muddy mess.”
He grinned. “It is that.”
“And then I’m leaving.”
He frowned, his black brows drawn together. “Leaving, for where?”
“Abilene, of course.”
“You can’t do that,” he protested. He took a step forward.
She held out a hand to ward him off. “Don’t come any closer.”
“I’ll do whatever I damn well please, Miss Lawless.” He headed toward her, walking slowly. “And what I damn well please is to take you in my arms and kiss your socks off.”
“I’m not wearing any.”
He took a step closer. “Then I’ve got a good start.”
“Chance, we need to talk.”
“Later,” he growled. “Right now what I’ve got to say doesn’t need words.”
“Wait.”
“Trixianna,” he coaxed, his voice as soft as butter warmed in the sun. He held his hands out palm up. His intense blue eyes seemed to stroke her with an eager, compelling force she was unable to deny. “Please.”
She took a step toward him.
Unwelcome excitement surged through her. She stared at his face…wanting just to touch him; to trace his brows, feel the roughness of his beard, his cheekbones, the curve of his ear. God, how she loved this man.
She needed to keep her distance, though. Her love for Chance, deep and intensely overwhelming, threatened to overcome her common sense. She could see that he wanted her. If nothing else, the bulge in his trousers proved that. But did he love her? He had yet to say so. Did he trust her? She didn’t know. Most important of all, did he want her for his life’ partner? He hadn’t said that either.