Charlie continued spouting other horrendous monikers for her clinic, but the quiet click of boot heels on the boardwalk outside deafened her to anything he said. Heart fluttering, she checked her pendant watch and confirmed her hypothesis.
It was time.
She tore off her work apron and threw it at her brother, then smoothed her bodice and touched a hand to her hair.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Charlie waved the white apron at her, but she sidestepped him without an answer and hurried across the room.
The front door opened, and there he was. The man who would be her husband in three days.
Unable to help herself, she scanned him for any sign of injury, then thanked the Lord when she found none. His examination of her apparently followed a more leisurely timetable, for when she raised her gaze back to his face, his was still making a slow, upward climb. When his eyes finally met hers again, she found herself grateful for the cool October breeze blowing into her clinic.
Matthew stepped close and wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her against his chest. “I missed you, darlin’.”
“I missed you too,” she said, bringing a hand up to fiddle with the top button on his light blue vest. “A week is a long time.”
“Too long.” He dipped his head toward hers.
She raised her face.
Charlie pounced. “Matt! Good to have you back.”
Matthew lifted his head and scowled at her completely unrepentant brother. Charlie took his chaperoning duties far too seriously.
Heat flushed Josephine’s cheeks as she eased away from Matthew’s possessive hold. She curled her arm around his, though, and led him the rest of the way inside, leaving Charlie to close the door behind them.
“Did the widow’s case go as expected?” she asked. While she’d been setting up her new clinic in San Antonio, the Horsemen had been investigating the suspicious goings-on in Burnet. Wallace and Preach had spent nearly a month at the ranch before uncovering the truth.
“For the most part,” Matt said. “Jury found the foreman guilty of several counts of assault based on the statements given by the men he hired to scare away the Rocking M hands.” Men the Horsemen had tracked down and strongly encouraged to testify. “But they couldn’t prove murder of the widow’s husband. Seems it might have been natural causes after all. The foreman had no actual designs on his boss’s widow, just planned to make her desperate enough to sell the ranch to him at a fraction of the price it was worth.” He stroked the inside of Josephine’s arm, the touch terribly distracting. “Wallace put her in contact with an eastern buyer willing to pay top dollar, though, so she’ll be set for life.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Once in the waiting room, she turned to face him, slipping her hand down his arm to twine her fingers with his. “How are the rest of the men?”
“Brought ’em back with me.”
“To Gringolet?”
Matthew stayed in the bunkhouse at her father’s ranch whenever he was in town, which was more and more frequently of late.
“Yep.” His face remained stoic, but his eyes smiled in that private way of his that made her heart pound in anticipation. “Figured if I was going to retire the Horsemen, they’d need regular work. Thaddeus promised them jobs once I agreed to the partnership.”
“Retire the Horsemen?” Josephine held her breath. She’d been so careful not to make any demands on him over the last months, understanding how important his work was to him. To all of them. But she’d been praying. And apparently her father had been bribing.
“Even got it in writing.” Matthew reached inside his coat, pulled out a folded newspaper, and handed it to her. “Francis Kendall was kind enough to give me an early edition before I left Austin this mornin’.”
She unfolded the paper and skimmed the page until the article in the bottom right corner snagged her attention. Hanger’s Horsemen Hang Up Their Hats.
She glanced at Matthew to assure herself that she hadn’t misread anything. He nodded, his mouth curving ever so slightly.
Turning back to the article, she scanned the highlights.
With matrimony on the horizon, Matthew Hanger is disbanding his famous foursome of horsemen and turning his attention to more domestic pursuits . . . accepted a partnership in Gringolet Farms with his father-in-law-to-be, Thaddeus Burkett. . . . As of this printing, Mr. Kendall will no longer be accepting requests for assistance on behalf of the Horsemen at the Weekly Statesman office.
Joy erupted inside her, yet she knew this decision could not have been easy. She and Matthew had each other, but what about Preach, Mark, and Jonah?
“Are your men . . . ?”
“They’re fine.” Matthew took the paper back from her and stuffed it in his pocket. “They’ll work at Gringolet until they find their own niches elsewhere, but we all agreed it was time to move on. I created the Horsemen as a way to atone for the atrocities of Wounded Knee, but meeting you has shown me—shown all of us, really—that there are ways to do good that don’t entail gunfighting and violence. Besides, we made a pact that whenever the Horsemen are needed, we will answer the call. Together. We just won’t seek out those opportunities anymore. We’ll let the Lord determine which jobs we take. If something crosses our path and stirs our soul, we’ll answer the call. Otherwise, we’ll keep our pistols holstered and focus on tending to the people closest at hand.”
Josephine bit her lip and sidled closer. “People like your future wife?”
Matthew tugged her close. Traced a finger along the edge of her cheek. “Mmm. People exactly like my future wife.”
“Charlie?” Josephine called without looking away from Matthew’s heated gaze.
“Yeah, sis?” Charlie stuck his face annoyingly close to theirs, but neither she nor Matthew paid him any heed.
“Time for you to go back to the Chuck Wagon.”
“Fine.” Charlie huffed and stomped noisily away. “But I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he called from the other room. “With a pitcher of cold water.”
The moment the back door closed on Charlie and his idle threats, Matthew’s lips pressed into hers with a tenderness that sent tiny shivers dancing over her skin. She rose up to meet him, took hold of the back of his neck, and deepened the kiss. He released her hand in order to circle his arm around her back, holding her so close that she could easily believe nothing of consequence would ever come between them.
His mouth left her lips and dropped a kiss on her forehead, the sweetness of the caress reverberating down to her very bones. As her head settled against his chest, she listened to the beat of his heart and knew, without a doubt, that hers would forevermore beat for him.
“You belong to me now, Matthew Hanger,” she murmured softly as she held tight to his waist.
“Now and always, Josie mine.” He kissed the top of her head, then settled his cheek against her brow. “Now and always.”
Christy Award finalist and winner of the ACFW Carol Award, HOLT Medallion, and Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award, bestselling author Karen Witemeyer writes historical romances because she believes the world needs more happily-ever-afters. She is an avid cross-stitcher and shower singer, and she bakes a mean apple cobbler. Karen makes her home in Abilene, Texas, with her husband and three children.
To learn more about Karen and her books and to sign up for her free newsletter featuring special giveaways and behind-the-scenes information, please visit her online at www.karenwitemeyer.com.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Karen Witemeyer
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
Epigraph
Dedication
Prologue
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Epilogue
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
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