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"Oh, yes. I can't wait to see it on you. My father will be here at one o'clock and then I can leave. I'll meet you at the dress shop."
Becky left and hurried down the town square. She needed to get back to the boardinghouse. Her aunt was busy baking the cake for the reception tomorrow. She wanted to be there to help.
As she rounded the corner on Main Street, she saw a crowd of men in the street. Several ladies were watching the commotion from the sidewalk in front of the bank. Her steps slowed as she approached. Mrs. Foster saw her and took her hand. "Oh dear, oh dear. Just don't look, dear. I'm sure everything will be all right."
Becky had to look. Her eyes were welded to the scene. The crowd cleared somewhat, and she could see one of the saloon girls with her dress torn and her face bleeding. Shock and pity ran through Becky. A man struggled on the ground and she saw Jake in the middle of the brawl. His strong voice rang out and issued a warning to the man on the ground and all the men watching. "Nobody treats ladies that way in my town." He jerked the man to his feet and pushed him to walk in front of him.
"She's not a lady. She's just a slut--"
Jake swung him around and hit him in the face. "You're going to jail, Yoakum. I'd make you apologize to her, but she won't want you anywhere near her. You're going to serve your time, and then you're going to clear out of Waco."
Becky's heart threatened to beat out of her chest and she clutched Mrs. Foster's hand as she watched the scene play out. The man Jake had in custody was bloodied and limping. His chin was bruised and cut open. Jake held him in a vicious grip and pushed him away from the crowd. The scowl on Jake's face was ferocious, and the muscles in his forearms were straining against the weight of holding up the other man. Blood dripped down his face, and antagonism radiated from him. The authority stamped across his features was implacable.
The first person Jake saw when he pushed away from the crowd and moved toward the sidewalk was Kyle Bolton, walking out of the bank. He had on a clean white shirt and shiny new boots. Anger and jealousy ripped through him.
The second person he saw was Becky, clutching Mrs. Foster's hands with a look of horror on her face. She was staring right at him. Goddammit! He sure as hell didn't need her seeing this.
He stalled him movements and struggled with the dirt bag in his hands. Blood pooled in the side of his mouth where he had taken a hit to the face. He turned his head and spat out the blood. His eyes turned back to her. His voice rang out over the crowd. "Get home, Becky. Now." The order was harsh and unbending. It left no room for dispute. Tension poured from him as he waited for her to obey him. Her eyes were glued to his. He felt their provocative effect on him even now. His nostrils flared. She bit her lip, tore her hands free from the older woman, and turned and ran. He waited just long enough to make sure Kyle went in the opposite direction from Becky, then turned his attention back to his job.
The entire day, all Jake could think about was getting the deed done tomorrow. He wanted her, all tied up and legally his, before something happened to change her mind. The scene on the street nagged at him, and he didn't want her upset by it. To his knowledge, Becky had never observed the seedier side of his job before. She was usually safely tucked away in his house, making a home for him. That she should witness an altercation like the one today, and on the day before she was supposed to marry him, sent fear slithering down his spine.
He thought briefly of getting her alone tonight, and anticipating their wedding night, but he didn't want to dishonor her that way. She deserved better. He might not let himself compromise her entirely, but he would stick to her side like glue and give her no spare time to think about Bolton.
Becky's day passed swiftly. The dress fitting went perfectly, and she was pleased with the way the store bought dress came out. In a deep shade of blue, it was the first time she would wear something other than a light colored pastel. The veil she would wear had been her mother's. It was simple lace, without a headpiece. It was one of the few possessions that had belonged to her mother she had left.
The rest of the day, she worked companionably in the kitchen with her aunt. They spoke of trivial things, laughing over memories of the parents she had loved so much, and the younger sister her aunt still missed to this day. It was an afternoon spent with gentle memories of the past, and subtle anticipation for the future.
At six o'clock, Jake
walked through and stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Both women turned to face him. "Ma'am." He tipped his hat to her aunt. His dark eyes swung to her.
Becky felt sparks hit her. Heat crept through her veins. His face was dark, his jaw shadowed with whiskers. A bruise marked one side of his face. Becky remembered the scene in the street, and a shiver ran through her. He was so intensely masculine.
Her aunt spoke. "Good evening, Sheriff," she looked from Becky to Jake and back again. She cleared her throat. "Well, now, I've got to get to the dining room. House guests, you know." With that, her aunt left the room.
Jake leaned against the door jam and crossed his arms over his chest. "Hello, Becky-girl." His deep voice ignited her insides. Just like that, she started to hyperventilate. He pushed his hat back and she saw his face was strained, a tic in his cheek. Excitement screamed through her.
She valiantly tried not to faint at his feet. "Hello." She gripped her waist. "Does your face hurt?"
He pushed off the door and came across the room. He reached around and pulled her to him. "Will you kiss it better for me?" he growled. He spread his legs and planted his feet solidly apart. He firmly pulled her all the way into him until her pelvis was pressed to his.
She gasped and her eyes flared into his. He held her and waited for her answer. She nodded and reached up to touch the bruise with her fingertips. She pressed too hard and he flinched. Her fingers jerked away. "I'm sorry." She tentatively held onto his shoulders and reached her lips towards his face. She brushed them lightly across the abrasion.
Jake felt the magic of her touch and his body clenched in need. His jeans tightened as he felt himself swell. He tried to calm the desire raging inside him. He needed to possess her, and soon.
After supper, he took her for another walk. He purposely steered her toward the retail section of town. He turned away from the saloons and gaming houses, where the many cowhands and drifters congregated and had earned the small town the name 'Six Shooter Junction.' He pulled her along, away from the bank, the courthouse, and the jail.
The establishments were all closing up for the day, but it was only dusk, and the moon was going to be full tonight. They strolled past the dry goods store, the milliner's shop, and the dressmaker's. When they passed the drugstore on the corner, he pulled her to the side of the building, away from prying eyes.
"Jake, where are we going?" Her voice was breathless.
He dragged her to the back of the building, next to one of the large, cotton warehouses that dominated the town. "Just back here. Did you know you can see the river from here?" He pointed in the distance. "The moon is going to be full tonight. You'll like it." His voice was seductive. He leaned against the building and pulled her around to face him.
She stumbled slightly at the quick movement and her hands landed on his chest. Lifting her chin with one rough, calloused hand, he put his other hand to her face. "I'm sorry you had to see that today, sweetheart."
"Are you okay? Were you badly hurt?" Her hand smoothed his bruised cheek. "Was the girl hurt? Will she be okay?"
"She's going to be fine. It'll take about a week before all her bruises go away, but she'll heal." He put his lips to her forehead and drank in her scent.
