The Ballad of Emma O'Toole by Elizabeth Lane Read Free Book Online Page A

at the Park City Hotel before he’d gone to the saloon that night. But since he hadn’t paid in more than a week, his things could be anywhere.
    And now he had a wife to take care of.
    It was Doc who came to the rescue. “My buggy’s out behind the jail,” he said. “And I know a back road where those galoots out front aren’t likely to follow us. I’d be glad to drive you to Park City.”
    “I’d be much obliged,” Logan said.
    “I’m the one who’s obliged,” Doc responded. “It was trying to save my worthless life that got you into this mess. And speaking of that…” He fumbled in his vest and brought out a thick, rumpled manila envelope. “I gathered up your winnings when the marshal hauled you off to jail. Figured if you wound up with your neckin a noose I’d give them to the young lady, here. But since you’re alive and a free man, in a manner of speaking…” He thrust the envelope into Logan’s hands. Dizzy with relief, Logan felt the weight of it. He never counted his winnings while he was still at the table, but he knew he’d been doing pretty well before young Carter showed up. How much was he holding?
    “I took the liberty of adding up what you’d won,” Doc continued. “Hard to place a value on the stock or on that mine you won from Thorson. But there’s enough cash to set you up for a few—”
    “Wait!” Logan broke in. “You say I won a
mine?”
    “That’s right. The Constellation, it’s called. Not a big setup, mind you. Thorson started it on a shoestring, then pretty much abandoned it when he found richer diggings in Woodside Gulch. But the ore assayed at thirty-one ounces of silver to the ton, rich enough to make a tidy profit. Just needs digging and hauling.”
    “I’ll be damned,” Logan muttered. “But I don’t know the first thing about mining.”
    “Well, if the way you play poker’s any indication, you’re smart enough to learn. In any case, if you take what’s in this envelope and put it to work, you could end up comfortably welloff, if not downright rich. Think what that security could mean for The missus, here.”
    He glanced toward Emma, who stood cloaked in stubborn silence. The girl hadn’t asked for this, Logan reminded himself. She deserved a respectable life, with a safe, cozy home, a wardrobe of pretty dresses and no worries about where her next meal was coming from. The last thing she needed was a man dragging her and her baby from town to town, living in shoddy hotel rooms, flush one day and penniless the next.
    Could he really settle down? For seven years he’d been on the move, always looking over his shoulder, never daring to put down roots. But Utah Territory was a world away from the Louisiana bayous. Even after the notoriety of today’s trial, who would come here looking for a man named Christián Girard—a man whose trail, and life, had ended in the murky depths of a Louisiana swamp?
    He was as safe here as he could ever hope to be.
    He would make himself believe that and act accordingly.
    Wrapped in her shawl, Emma huddled between Doc and Logan on the swaying buggyseat. Her fingers toyed with the slim gold band on her finger—the token that declared her, before the world, a married woman.
    She felt more like a prisoner than a wife. The last thing she’d have expected was to end the day as Mrs. Logan Devereaux. But that had been her choice, Emma reminded herself. She’d wed him to avenge Billy John’s death. But short of killing the man, how was she supposed to make him pay?
    The country road wound through a grove of budding alders and crossed the bed of a shallow creek. Emma’s gaze followed the flight of a golden eagle as it soared westward to disappear over the snow-clad Wasatch Mountains. The sun hung low in the sky, streaking the clouds with flame and crimson. By the time they reached Park City it would be dark.
    A quiver of growing awareness crept through Emma’s body. Tonight would be her wedding night.
    She remembered the