Chapter Fifty-One

Zachary quickly took in the scene as he held his revolver in his hand and contemplated shooting the sheriff where he stood. Arthur Thomas was standing only a few feet from Samantha.

His eyes took in the sight of his wife. Seeing her alive and whole—even bloody and worn as she was—filled Zachary with relief. He could see the pain in her eyes, the fatigue and weariness etched into her face, and the way her hand shook as she held that revolver aimed at Sheriff Arthur Thomas' chest.

"Zachary...." Her voice was a beacon calling him home as Zachary strode across the room, keeping his gun aimed at the sheriff as the other man took several steps away from them both and kept his hands raised in surrender.

Keeping the sheriff in his peripheral vision, Zachary reached his wife. He looked down in Samantha's green eyes for several long moments, simply taking in the love and light still shining so brightly out of them—still so full of life.

She swayed on her feet and Zachary was quick to wrap his arm around her and pull her body into his offering her his strength. "You rest now, Sam. I'm here. I've got you."

The breath rushed out of her and her arm wrapped around him, gripping the back of his dusty black vest. "I love you."

He pressed a quick hard kiss to the top of her head, burying his face in her red curls for a moment as he fought back a wave of emotion and blinked away the tears that threatened to fall.

Once he was certain he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of the sheriff, Zachary turned toward the man, keeping Samantha's body held against him with his gun still aimed steady at the sheriffs' chest. "I warned you that I protect what's mine, Sheriff."

"Yes, you did, Mr. Marston." Arthur Thomas tipped his head. "And any good man does. I'm not your enemy."

Zachary's jaw tightened. "And yet I found you alone with my wife, standing feet away from her after she was attacked and she's holding you at gunpoint. I would say that makes you my enemy."

Samantha stirred and he glanced down to see her looking up at him. "I think he's telling the truth, Zach. I think we can trust him."

Zachary raised a brow. "You were the one holding him at gunpoint."

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "I said I think we can trust him but I'm also not an idiot."

Zachary knew she was no idiot. The love and respect he felt for his wife grew every moment. Though he didn't now the details of what had happened today, he knew one thing for certain, he had underestimated her strength. Zachary would never make that mistake again—his wife was strong and smart and nowhere near helpless. She was truly amazing.

Zachary longed to kiss her but now wasn't the time. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the sheriff. "She just saved your life—at least for a few minutes. Why should we trust you?"

"He hates Clinton just as much as we do. Don't you, sheriff?" Samantha added.

Zachary saw the anger in Arthur Thomas' gaze. He saw the man's jaw tighten and his knuckles whitening as his fists clenched. "Ma'am, I would say that is a goddamn guarantee."

Zachary didn't lower his gun but his grip on it did loosen slightly. "Why?"

Arthurs gaze dropped to the floor. His throat worked as he swallowed hard several times. Slowly, he took a deep breath and met Zach's gaze once again. "Because three years ago Clinton Matthews came upon my home while I was away. Him and his men slaughtered my family. My wife, my daughter, my son.... I lost all of them in a single afternoon and rode home to find them...." His voice broke and he took another shuddering breath. "Hate is too weak a word for what I feel toward that son of a bitch."

Zachary believed him. The emotions he was showing were not faked or forced. Zachary immediately felt a small kinship with the sheriff. He holstered his gun but before he could further the conversation, Timothy came barreling into the store.

"Where's Eleanor?"

Samantha attempted to pull away from Zachary but he held her tight. The woman was dead on her feet and after the fear of today he wasn't at all ready to let go of her just yet. "Timothy, she's okay!" Samantha quickly assured him. "She's upstairs in her old room sleeping. She hasn't woken up fully since.... Well..." Samantha's grip on Zachary tightened. "She took a couple hard hits to the head..."

Timothy's curses filled the air. He headed for the stairs but paused, his face pale and his eyes wide. "Do you need help with him, Zach?" he asked, tipping his head toward the sheriff.

Zachary shook his head. "No, Samantha and I can handle him. Go be with your wife."

Timothy simply nodded once before racing up the stairs taking them three at a time.

"Why don't I help you to bed, Sam, and I'll come back and talk to the sheriff?" Zachary offered.

"No!" Samantha's refusal was nearly desperate. "I want you with me, Zachary."

Zachary sighed. "You're tired..."

"I am. Which means we need to finish this conversation with the sheriff and then go up to bed."

"I understand your mistrust, Zachary," Arthur admitted. "But I can promise now that I am a friend. I want Clinton Matthew's dead more than anything else in the world."

"And when we met? You'd been asking about me in town and you sure seemed scared shitless when I walked in the jailhouse."

Arthur chuckled humorlessly. "You didn't walk in, you damn near broke the front door." He sighed. "And I had heard your reputation, knew how dangerous you were. I was scared."

Zachary felt Samantha shaking lightly. The woman needed to lay down. He rubbed her back gently and kept his attention on the sheriff. "How did you know about me?"

"When Clinton killed my family, I wanted justice. So I went to the law but they claimed they couldn't help. Over and over I was told that he was untouchable."

Zachary nodded as that helpless rage resurfaced in his mind. He knew exactly how that felt and what Arthur would have been told.

"When it became clear that justice was off the table, I decided vengeance would do. But I'm not made for that life." Shame filled his voice. "I wasn't made for chasing after men that way. So, I became a lawman and decided that I would do the best I could to keep Clinton from doing what he'd done to anyone else while I served whatever town I happened to be in. That's when I learned your name. Folks talk—especially drunk folks causing hell in saloons. Clinton Matthews was afraid of a man named Zachary Marston because Zachary Marston had been chasing him for years and killed dozens of his men. I even learned where you came from and so when I saw a job opportunity in Hackney listed in the paper, I had to take it. I asked about you because I knew you would be the one person who could help me take down Clinton Matthews."

Zachary tensed. "Did you lead that bastard here? Did you help him find me so you could see your vengeance done?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he was quick to shake his head. "No. I was going to approach you and have you help me hunt him down but when I got here and realized you had a wife and a family of your own now... I changed my mind. I couldn't ask you to risk your life for my vengeance."

"But you stayed here..."

The sheriff shrugged. "I guess a part of me hoped that Clinton would come for you in retaliation and I would be here to help kill him."

"Well you got your wish," Zachary practically snarled. "It was Clinton's men, wasn't it?" he asked, glancing down at Samantha.

She nodded. "Yes. It was his men." Zachary could tell there was more she wanted to say but she wasn't going to say it just now.

Zachary studied the sheriff. Could he trust the man? Zachary's gut told him yes. And since he'd damn near lost his wife because he'd ignored his gut, he wasn't about to do it again.

"Okay sheriff. There's two horses out front and they're damn near dead. Take them to the livery and have them put up. I'm locking up this house tight and you're gonna stay outside as guard until I get Samantha settled in. Got it?"

"Of course," the relief on the sheriff's face told Zachary he knew how close he'd come to being killed. "No one is going to sneak up to this house while I'm on lookout. I swear it."

"Sheriff?" Samantha asked as the man headed for the door.

He paused and met her gaze. "What is it, ma'am?"

"Thank you."

He tipped his head. "Thank you for not shooting me—and for not letting your husband shoot me." He adjusted his gun belt. "I'll go tend to those horses now."

Zachary was happy to finally find himself alone with Samantha. But the woman needed a bed. He stooped down and put his arm behind her knee before lifting her up and cradling her body against him.

She didn't say a word as she simply rested her had on his chest. Zachary went to the door and bolted it shut before going up the stairs to find the doc and Catherine in the kitchen. "Doc, if there's weapons in the house I suggest you get them and keep them close. Make sure all the windows and doors are locked. Clinton Matthews and his men are somewhere near town and I can guarantee we haven't seen the last of them."

"We shouldn't put the doc in danger," Samantha spoke up, raising her head a bit. "We should go somewhere else..."

"I don't think you will," Doctor Reynolds scolded, laying a rifle on the table. "You're my patient and my friend and I'll be tending to you, to all of you, until this is over. No one is going to come in here and harm a hair on your heads."

Zachary frowned at Catherine. "Where's your son?"

She sighed and took a sip of her coffee. "He's with his grandmother. I thought it best to let him stay there."

"I wish you'd go as well," Doctor Reynold's grumbled.

She kissed his whiskered cheek. "Not a chance. You may need my help so right here is where I'm going to be."

"Just be careful," he warned them both. "Clinton Matthews is as cold-hearted a bastard as they come."

Doctor Reynolds nodded as he sat down at the table. "Samantha, do you want to tell us what happened today?"

"Later," Zachary cut in when she opened her mouth to speak. "Right now she needs rest."

And he needed to lay down and hold her. He needed to breathe her in without prying eyes. He needed to know that she was safe and he needed her to know that he was sorry—so damned sorry that he had ignored his gut and left her. That he had forced her to have to deal with whatever the hell had happened back at home alone.

Timothy and Eleanor were in the only spare bedroom so Zachary carried Samantha to the patient room downstairs. Darkness was falling but he didn't light a lamp—he didn't want to throw any shadows and help Clinton or his men have a clear shot. He laid her in the tiny bed and stretched himself out beside her holding her tight.

"What the hell happened today?" he asked, burying his face in those thick red curls.

Samantha's breath hitched and she buried her face in his shirt. He could feel her body trembling as hot tears soaked through the black fabric. "It was horrible..." she whispered, her voice strained. "I was in the barn and a man came to the door. I recognized him as being one of Clinton's. He held a gun on me and then I heard the rifle..."

As Samantha told him the entire story of the attack at the house, Zachary felt his guilt grow. He should have been there. He should have kept her safe.

"Don't you dare do that," her sharp warning drew Zachary out of his own head and he realized she was staring at him. Her green eyes were swollen and red-rimmed and tears had streaked the dirt and blood that had been on her face.

"Do what?"

"Blame yourself. This was not your fault, Zach."

He felt his own eyes begin to burn as he fought back emotion. "I should have been there. He gently traced his fingers over the sling that held her shoulder steady. "I should have kept you safe."

"You can't take all that responsibility on yourself. I kept us safe. I got us to town. And now you're here and anything else that happens we'll face together."

Zachary looked in her eyes for a moment before swooping in and crushing his mouth against hers. Pouring every ounce of love, worry, pain, and relief he felt into her, knowing that she would feel each of his emotions without him ever having to say a word. She kissed him right back just as fiercely.

Loathfully, he pulled away. "Rest Sam. I'll keep watch just in case that bastard sets fire to the place."

"He won't," Samantha assured him.

Zachary grunted. "He's coward enough to do it, trust me."

"Yes, but he won't. He doesn't want me dead, Zachary. Remember when the man shot me, his friend killed him for it. Clinton won't do anything that might end with me dying. He doesn't want me dead, he wants me at his side."

Zachary growled and held her just a little tighter, staying mindful of her shoulder and the bullet wound she never should have suffered. "That's not gonna fucking happen." 

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter!  I have a feeling the next one will be a bit action packed. And now we know that the sheriff is a friend (or is he?) But we also know that Clinton has a rat in town so who is it? Thanks for reading and don't forget that I love comments!!