Shotgun Bride by Linda Lael Miller

to John’s side, clutched his hand. “John Lewis!” she cried. “You listen to me. Don’t you go dying!”
    It seemed that John’s left eyelid flickered, but maybe it was a trick of the lamplight.
    “What can we do?” Becky asked, fixing her gaze on the doc.
    “Not much,” Doc said, looking sad and old and very much the sort of doctor one would expect to find in a half-assed frontier town like Indian Rock. “He’s alive, but just barely.”
    It reminded Kade of Emmeline, the way Becky straightened her spine, sucked in her breath, and gave the doc a level look. “Can we move him?”
    “Maybe tomorrow,” Doc said. “He oughtn’t to be jostled around any more than necessary. He came to once, in a lot of pain, and I gave him a dose of morphine, much as I dared, anyway, and then he passed out again. No telling when he might run down, though, Becky, and that’s the sad fact of it.”
    Tears shimmered in Becky’s eyes and Kade would have bet they sprang from an inner well of determination, not just simple grief. She laid her forehead to John’s and wrapped her arms around him.
    “You hold on,” she ordered. “You hear me, John Lewis? You hold right on.”
    John made a sound, part gurgle, part murmur. Becky straightened as if struck by some sudden inspiration, went to the chair where the doc had tossed the lawman’s coat after peeling it off him, and unfastened the nickel-plated badge from the lapel. Then, facing Kade, she pinned the thing to his shirt, and though she was looking up into his eyes, her words were directed to John, lying behind her on that hard table, fighting for his life. And losing, by the looks of things.
    “You fix your brain on getting well, John,” she said clearly, raising her voice a little, “and don’t be bothering with anything else. Kade McKettrick’s going to look after your town for you.” She seemed to be staring into his very soul. “Aren’t you, Kade?”
    He raised one arm to give the badge a polishing swipe with his cuff. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He didn’t have the first idea how to go about upholding the law, he realized, but he figured on learning, and learning fast.

Chapter 15
     
     
    K ade sat bolt upright on the jail-cell cot at the sound of his name, wrenched out of a deep and rummy sleep. When he peered through the bars, he saw Sister Mandy standing next to the desk, and the sight of her lifted his spirits a little, though he couldn’t think why that ought to be so.
    She was wearing the nun getup, as always, and her hands rested on her hips. “You’ve got no business being marshal,” she announced.
    He shoved a hand through his hair, fixed his sights on the potbellied stove next to the far wall, and staggered over to throw on a piece of wood and see what he could do about getting some coffee started. “Well, thank you for putting your two cents in, Miss Mandy,” he said amenably, and with a yawn, “but I can’t see for the life of me where what I do is any of your concern.”
    Her cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink. “Don’t be a fool. You’ve got no idea what you’re going up against by pinning on that badge!”
    The stove door creaked as Kade pulled it open and bent slightly to peer inside. The fire was stone cold, and he crouched to poke in some crumpled newspaper and kindling from the meager supply at hand. “I mean to find out,” he said, without sparing her a glance. “What are you doing in town, anyhow? I thought you were set on taking care of Emmeline.”
    “I would, if she’d stay put,” Mandy replied, still in a fine and un-nunly dither. “When we got word of what happened to Mr. Lewis, she made Rafe bring us straight to town.”
    Kade struck a match to the fire he’d laid, waited to see if it would catch, closing and latching the stove door when it did, then straightening. “Is there any word about John?” he asked quietly, reaching for the coffeepot.
    “He’s holding his own,” Mandy said.
    Kade’s relief was