the man, even telling him the truth about my past, about what I did, because I loved him. He deserved to know who he was really married to. I just had to hope he loved me enough in return to understand.
Ryder
When I returned home, I was livid Ellie wasn't there. At first. Then I realized it was better this way. I needed time to calm down, to be prepared to question her and listen rationally and with a clear head. When she did return, basket in hand, I was ready.
Placing the basket on the table, she smiled. "I realize I must be truthful with you and tell you something - " Her smile and her voice faltered when she looked at me. "What's the matter?"
I sat at the end of the table, my hands in my lap. "I know what you did."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "News travels fast." She pulled out a chair and sat across from me, her posture straight, her chin up.
So she had hit the man. What was his name? Simms? Simmons.
"Yes, it can certainly follow you. Did you do it on purpose?" My tone was even. Flat.
"Yes."
"You're married to a lawman and should very well know the difference from right and wrong."
"Sometimes you do the wrong thing when you don't have a choice," she replied, her look even as she sat down. She wasn't fidgeting, sweating, crying, pleading. Nothing. Was she cold hearted and I was blinded by lust and didn't see it?
"Ellie, you still have to face the consequences."
Her mouth fell open. "You're going to put me in jail?"
I sighed. I felt like my heart was ripping out of my chest. I paused, even my thoughts. My heart was ripping out of my chest. How could I be in love with this cold-hearted woman across the table from me? Tightening my jaw, and my resolve, I knew the truth. I was. I was in love with Ellie. "I want to know the truth. Every bit of it. Then we'll see."
"Very well." She placed her hands on top of the table, folded them. "I hit her, but she deserved it. I know I shouldn't have, but she had it coming with those insults and - "
I held up my hand, halting her words. What had she said? Her? "Who are you talking about?"
She frowned. "Myrna Flanders."
"You hit Myrna Flanders?" I asked, stunned.
"Well, yes. She was saying bad things about you and I couldn't let her continue so I -" She was waving her hands around in the air to accompany her litany.
"Myrna Flanders?" I repeated. What did Myrna Flanders have to do with the man in Minneapolis?
She paused, just stared at me, clearly as confused as I was. "Who are you speaking of?"
"Allen Simmons."
All color seeped from her face so that her red hair was so intensely vibrant. She licked her lips. "How...?"
I held up the crinkled letter, tossed it across the table to land in front of her. With trembling fingers, she picked it up, opened it. I remained silent as she read, gauging the emotions flickering across her face.
Her head shot up. "He's not dead!"
I frowned. "You thought you killed him?"
"Yes." Ellie started to cry. Cry wasn't the right term. She was sobbing, one hand raised to cover her mouth.
She was crying out of relief and pain and I wanted to go to her, grab her up and comfort her. I could only imagine what the bastard had done to her to have her hit him. From the wound Mrs. Bidwell described, she'd hit him with something pretty hefty and with quite a bit of force. Thinking she'd killed a man, she'd fled, changed her name and accepted marriage to a stranger just so she could stay safe. If the man were as well connected as the letter said, she would have been tried and convicted for the death.
She'd gotten off the stage thinking she was a murderer married to a lawman!
Comfort could not come now. Only the truth. Once her crying subsided into sniffles, I passed her a handkerchief from my pocket. Only when she used it to wipe her eyes did I push her. "Tell me, Ellie. Tell me everything."
She glanced up at me with panicked, watery eyes. "What I told you was true. I was being courted by Allen Simmons. He was...is...rich, well connected