Runaway Brides 02 by Colorado Dawn

Author:Colorado Dawn
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781101553855
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 2012-01-03T08:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Dinner was a continuation of the chaos that had erupted earlier when the children had come charging out of the house. Edwina Brodie made gallant attempts to maintain order, but it was apparent that although the children loved her, they clearly dinna fear her. A true leader needed both if he—or she—was to maintain order, Ash had found.

Which the sheriff had in abundance, although he wielded his power with soft words and hard looks—and only after his wife had lost her gracious smile and turned to him with narrowed eyes.

“Children,” he would say in his quiet voice. “Slops.” And that ended it. For a while, anyway.

Watching the looks passing between the sheriff and his wife, and seeing the pride in their smiles when they looked at their children—who really weren’t bad children as much as high-spirited and somewhat undisciplined—made Ash realize how different his own life might have been had he grown up in such an unstructured, boisterous, but affectionate household. If he ever had a family of his own to manage, would he be a benign ruler like Declan Brodie? Or a ham-fisted tyrant like his father?

“Quite different from Northbridge, is it not?” his wife murmured at his side as if she had read his thoughts. Unsettling how often that was happening of late. He dinna like to think he was so transparent.

“Aye.” He smiled down at her. “And even though it gives me a headache, I like it.”

Her smile faded. “Your head hurts?”

“No more than any sane person’s would.”

“You were a soldier?” the oldest boy—R. D.—asked, pulling Ash away from pleasant memories of his wife’s soft breasts.

“Aye.”

Brin leaned toward her brother, Lucas. “Why does he keep saying ‘I’?” she whispered loud enough for the whole table to hear. For such a small mite, the wee bairn had a verra big voice.

“Not ‘I.’ Aye,” the boy whispered back. “It means yes.” Lucas’s brown gaze swung to Ash. “Doesn’t it?”

“Aye.”

“See, he did it again.”

“Did you kill a lot of people when you were a soldier?” the blond boy asked through a mouthful of half-chewed carrots.

A bit taken aback, Ash shrugged. “When necessary.”

“Ed killed Lone Tree,” the blond volunteered.

Edwina Brodie narrowed her eyes in warning.

“Slops,” her husband said and took a bite of roast beef.

While Joe Bill’s mother leaned over and whispered something in the boy’s ear that took some of the color out of his cheeks, R. D. continued his interrogation of Ash. “Sword or rifle?”

“Both.” Ash set down his fork and sat back, becoming uneasy. Not that he minded doing his duty as a soldier, but he dinna like discussing the gory aspects of it with a child.

“Were you ever wounded?”

“Aye.” Without looking over, he knew the Indian was listening.

“How many times?”

Ash wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it carefully beside his plate. “Four. Perhaps five.”

Finally, the Cheyenne spoke. “What is the long gun you use?”

“When I was with the Rifles,” Ash said, “we used the Pattern 1853 Enfield muzzle-loaders. Later, when I transferred to the Hussars, we were issued shorter barreled, breech-loading Snider-Enfield cavalry carbines.

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