Chapter Eighteen

You Have a Lovely Daughter, Mr. Cavanaugh…..

Woody sighed with relief as he left Walcott's General Store. Somehow, despite the fact that Rene' said she was only a shop owner and had no particular pull with any of the town officials, Woody seriously doubted that claim. Mrs. Walcott could have easily governed that town without breaking a sweat, and most of the citizens of Tyler were particular about staying on the woman's good side. But Rene was more than willing to throw Woody's name in the ring for the position of sheriff and seemed sure he would get it. "You're the most qualified, and frankly….no one else wants it."

He mounted Chevelle with a little more trepidation when he rode out to the claim to see Max. He had stopped by Garret's after leaving the General Store and Garret informed him that Jordan was still resting. If Woody wanted to stop by later in the afternoon, she should be ready to go home…and the marshal could escort her back to the claim. Garret was still worried enough about her that he didn't want Jordan riding by herself all the way back to her home.

Stopping in the middle of the paddock, Woody looked around, trying to get a feel of where Max was at. Hearing noises coming from the barn, Woody surmised Max was in that building and started for it, just a hitch of hesitation in his stride. "Mr. Cavanaugh?"

"I told you before Woody, it's Max. What are you doing here? Is anything wrong with Jordan?"

Woody shook his head. "No. Jordan's fine. I stopped and checked on her before I came out here."

Max looked the young marshal over carefully, tilting his head to one side. Yep. It was there. That look. "Then why are you here, Hoyt?" the older man asked roughly.

"It is about Jordan. And depending on how you take this, it could be very right, or totally wrong."

"Then you better do some tall talking to make me think it's right, son…."

Woody swallowed hard and felt fine beads of perspiration break out on his forehead. Nervously he wondered when the afternoon had gotten so hot. "Well, Jordan…" Woody nearly blushed when he heard his voice crack like a nervous adolescent.

"Yes?" Max asked, stopping his chore of spreading clean hay in the stalls to lean against his pitchfork and watch the younger man with amusement. "Jordan what?'

"You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Cavanaugh…Max….she's smart, and …."

"And street savvy, and doesn't take any crap from nobody….you, me, or sometimes even God Himself.

Nodding Woody continued. "I feel I've gotten to know her pretty well…."

"How well?'

"Not that well, sir…." Woody's voice cracked again and he felt one of the beads of perspiration run down his face. "No….no….sir."

"Glad to hear it."

"But what I have gotten to know I really like….and admire….and respect…."

"Good to know Hoyt. Because you realize she's not going to change who she is or what she does for anyone." Max gave Woody a knowing look.

"I realize that, sir. And I don't want her to change anything." Woody gazed levelly back at Max. "She's too special just the way she is to think about changing for anyone – including me. But what I'm trying to say…to ask you…is that I love your daughter, Max. I'm not sure when it happened, but I do. I don't want to change her. I just want to be with her. I guess what I'm asking is your permission ….your blessing….of her hand in marriage."

Max threw Woody a hard look and went back to cleaning the stalls. The silence stretched into a full two minutes before Max could clear his throat and reply. "She's my little girl, Woody. She always will be. She's all I have left…but I'll let you in on a little secret. She needs you as much as you need her. She cares for you….deeply." Max paused a moment and wiped his shirt sleeve across his eyes. "You realize you get more than just Jordan with this?" he asked.

"I realize that, sir. I'm glad and proud you'll be my father-in-law."

Max grinned. "No, that's not what I mean, boy. I mean I'm keeping my plans to go away for a while. Get some perspective. I got a sister in Kansas I haven't seen in ten years or better and neither of us are getting' any younger. Figured I'd go out there and see her for a while….No. Besides Jordan, you'll get my claim."

Woody's head spun. He never anticipated having 80 acres of Texas land in his wildest dreams…and never such a large house.

"Yeah, it'll be yours and Jordan's. Do me a favor and fill it with grandkids."

Woody numbly nodded. His head was still reeling.

"But I'm telling you one time and one time only, Hoyt. You hurt her, and I'll come back and kick your ass……"

Woody rode back into town grinning to himself. Now to find the woman and tie up last loose end of this odyssey. He opened the door to Garret's office to find the doctor and Mrs. Walcott in deep discussion. "Afternoon….sheriff," Garret said, grinning.

"It's not official yet," Woody replied, throwing a nervous glance at Rene'.

"Just the details need to be worked out." Garret handed him a leather pouch. Woody opened it and spilled the contents out in his hand -- a brass star with the word "SHERIFF" etched on it. He looked on it with disbelief. A job. In one town. Roots….the very things that used to make him want to turn around and run were now just the very things he needed.

"Wear it with pride and responsibility," Rene' said softly, going over to him and pinning it on. "There have been some good men….really good men ….that have worn it before you and done an outstanding job. Tom Malden being the exception, of course."

Woody nodded, his throat now as dry as the dusty streets of Tyler. "Where's Jordan?" he managed to get out.

Garret hid a knowing smile. If he was a betting man, which he was – he and Nigel already had a pool going about when the wedding would be – he would wager that his assistant was the real reason Woody was staying in Tyler. "She's at the Pogue."

"The Pogue?"

Garret nodded. "Yeah. Max left her the bar….she's taking inventory and trying to talk Nigel into running the joint….give him an honest day's wages for an honest day's work and still allow her to work for me. You will still allow her to work for me?" Garret asked, raising one eyebrow.

Woody nodded and pulled on his duster. Tipping his hat to the couple he headed outside and down the street.

"What in the Sam hell are you doing here?" he asked loudly to Jordan. She jumped at the sound of his voice, deep in inventory of mugs and beer.

"Dad left me the bar, Woody. I need to make sure we have everything to run it tonight…"

"No you don't. Nigel can do that…"

Jordan rolled her eyes. Men… she thought, even this one…"Please don't tell me I need to rest. I've rested for two days….thanks to Garret and his drugs. I need to be out and about and feel useful again. I'm fine….just sore."

Woody looked her over then. From head to toe….a slow exercise, letting his eyes burn through her, as if peeling away her clothes while he did it…seeing the bruises that still vividly ringed her neck despite the fact she now had her blouse buttoned up to her throat. Jordan moved uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny. It brought back memories of their first meeting….here, at the Pogue, behind the bar. When he thought she was one of those women.

"That's not the issue," he bit out.

"It's not? Then what is?"

"No woman….no decent woman….should be behind a bar….in a bar….working at a bar…."

Jordan felt anger begin to lick its way through her veins. "I am a decent woman, Marshal. I just have a business to run….how dare you try to tell me what to do? You have no right to try to tell me…"

Her voice trailed off as Woody had made his way across the room, leaned across the counter, hooked one finger in her blouse and pulled her across surface, making their faces fractions of an inch apart. Swallowing her fear, Jordan continued, "You have no reason to try to tell me what to do…"

"Reason? What about the fact that I don't want my wife working in a bar?"

Wife? Where in the hell did that come from? "Your wife?" she whispered, looking into his eyes…silently willing them not to be quite so upset…

Suddenly his lips and the corners of his eyes turned up into a grin. "Yeah. My wife. I know it's not moonlight and roses and violins….but…." He pulled her out from behind the counter and dropped to one knee. "Jordan Cavanaugh….Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh…will you marry me?"

"M ..m…marry you? But you're leaving soon on your next assignment…US Marshals don't normally have wives…"

Woody grinned up at her and pulled his duster back, revealing his new badge. "True. But it's okay for Tyler's new sheriff to be married."

Bug won the wedding pool. Woody and Jordan were married three weeks later and Max hung around long enough to give his daughter away. Woody thought Jordan had never looked lovelier than she did that hot Tyler afternoon when Preacher Stiles performed the ceremony. Rene' had ordered her a dress and it came in on the same train as the contingent to pick up the illegal guns. As far as they and the army knew, Jordan was the only bride in Texas that had her wedding dress delivered by the first brigade.

After the traditional wedding lunch and well wishes from the citizens of Tyler, Woody and Jordan slowly rode out to their claim. Max had left for Kansas after lunch…and they had the house to themselves for a long weekend honeymoon. Woody didn't even have to work. He deputized Matt Seeley and left him a gun and a badge…making Lily swoon even more over the tall red-head. Woody imagined there would be another wedding in Tyler before too long.

They dismounted, and after Woody stabled Chevelle and Camino, he went back inside the house. Jordan was standing in the middle of the living room…slowly looking around. Nothing was out of place…yet everything was different now that she was married. Something she never thought would happen to her. "Are you okay?" Woody asked. Her wide-eyed expression was scaring him just a little.

"I'm fine…" She held out her left hand that bore a narrow gold band on her ring finger. Her mother's wedding ring. She had no idea Max had saved it for her. "It's just that I never figured I'd ever be…well, married."

Woody chuckled and put his arms around her. "If it's any consolation, I never thought I would either." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead lightly. "But we are," he lowered his lips to her ear. "Nervous?"

Shivering at the sensation of his warm breath against her sensitive skin, she nodded. "Yeah…a little…"

"Don't be…" he moved his lips to just below her ear then….in that delicate spot that sent tremors up her spine.

"That's easy for you to say."

"Really?"

Jordan nodded as he turned her around so that her back was to him. Still kissing her jaw line, he untied the laces on her dress and began to ease them out of their bindings. "Really," she managed to get out before his lips found her bare shoulder. "I mean…I know…you've probably done this…you have done this…before…but I…" her voice trailed off.

They hadn't discussed the physical side of marriage. Other than a few kisses here and there the three weeks prior to their marriage, they had barely been left alone. Lily was always with her, helping her with the wedding or she had been working with Garret. And Woody had been thrown directly into his job as sheriff. She wasn't embarrassed that she had never been with a man, but Woody needed to know….she just had never had a chance to tell him.

"I know, Jordan." His voice in his ear was softer than snowflakes.

"You do?" She turned to face him, searching his eyes for some kind of answer.

"I know. I could tell it the first time I kissed you."

"Oh." She felt a blush rise to her cheeks. "I guess I should have…"

"No. It's okay…don't worry. We'll take things as slow as you want…I just want you to feel comfortable. That's all. The rest…the rest will come. Just relax. It's just me and you…and all the time in the world." He pulled her to him and kissed her.

Jordan enjoyed his kisses…more than he knew, she was sure. It was easy to get carried away and forget about anything when Woody's lips were on hers. She eagerly opened her mouth and let him explore it and her brain began to grow dim to anything but him. She was barely aware when he pushed her wedding dress to the floor…a puddle of white silk against the dark blue and vivid burgundies of Lu's rug.

Woody stopped for a minute to gaze down at her…her dusky eyes and soft lips…he nearly chuckled when he remembered how amazed he was the first time he kissed her…that such a prickly woman could have such soft lips. God knows there was nothing prickly about her now. She was all soft curves and sweetness. He counted himself a lucky man – very lucky – that he was the only one that knew just how sweet. Woody picked her up and carried her to their bedroom, gently depositing her on the feather tick

Jordan shivered again when the coolness of the sheets hit her back. She knew there was no going back now, not that she wanted to. Being in his arms felt right…it felt like home. So when Woody began to kiss her again, she wound her arms around her neck and arched her body to his. She wanted to be as close as she could.

His moan against her lips told her that she had done the right thing. He began to trail soft kisses down her throat and across her collar bone…and his hand moved to her breast. Jordan inhaled sharply at the sensation of gentle pressure and teasing strokes around her nipple. Woody's lips returned to hers. "Am I going to fast?"

Jordan shook her head furiously. Whatever he was doing, she didn't want him to stop. Nigel's dimwitted penny dreadfuls didn't hold a candle to what Woody Hoyt was now doing to her body. And he was her husband…he could do this every night. She bit back a moan as this thought flitted across her mind. No wonder Lori Stoneman always seemed so happy.

Woody chuckled against her lips and began to ease down the straps of her chemise, swearing and then thanking God at the same time. She was beautiful…more beautiful than he imagined. More beautiful than he deserved, he was sure. Don't rush it, don't rush it, don't rush it … his head and heart told him, helping him fight down the urge to pull everything off of her at once and make her his. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the garment over her head and let it fall to the floor.

Jordan's eyes followed the motion before they turned back to gaze into Woody's. There was a fire there…a desire she hadn't seen before…and it thrilled and frightened her at the same time. But both of those emotions were forgotten when he kissed her and once again trailed his lips over the hollow of her throat, over the ring of bruises that were finally beginning to fade, down to her breast. When he took one stiff peak in his mouth her voice caught in the back of her throat. Dear God…her back arched completely off the feather tick.

Woody gently lowered her back down before he turned his attention to her other breast, but he got the same reaction. He hadn't expected Jordan to be maidenly-shy, but the passion behind her reactions were driving him faster than he wanted to go. Slow down…he told himself.

Unfortunately certain of his body parts weren't paying attention. He stifled a groan and sought her lips again, as his thumbs began a slow sweep to the underside of her breast.

He steadied himself and his breathing, resting his forehead against hers. "Ah…Jordan…"

"Kiss me…" her voice came out sultry and husky…a tone neither he nor she recognized. But it was his undoing. His mouth sought hers hungrily this time, letting the passion spin. Blindly his hands reached for her drawers and her fingers sought the buttons on his shirt.

She managed to get it open and push it off without too many problems. Greedily she let her hands wander over the expanse of his chest until her questing fingers found his scar. Abruptly she stopped. "What?" she asked.

"What what?" he responded, managing to undo the ribbon on her under drawers and slowly beginning to slide them down her hips.

"This." She ran the tip of her index finger over the angry red incision…a bright contrast to his fair skin.

"War wound," he bit out, pushing the underwear down to her knees and was now untying her garters.

"Wait…"

Wait? Jesus, the woman has no idea what she's asking me to do… "Jordan…I'm not sure I can…"

"Where'd you get injured? What battle?"

Woody sighed. He had tried for so long to forget it…fought back the memories….the blood, the dead and dying men…the feeling of utter hopelessness that pervaded both sides of the war. "Manassas," he said, feeling some of the passion leave the room. Oh hell…I should have told her earlier …I was going to…I needed to…I should have…damn, damnit, damn…

He never noticed her finger stopped tracing his scar. It wasn't until he felt her small hand on the side of his face that he realized she had ceased that motion. She turned his face so he was looking at her in the eyes. "Manassas. Woody. I was there…Garret and I both were….I don't remember you, but I remember the battle…vividly. My God, you could have been killed…"

Shock bolted through him. No, he would have remembered seeing her…she must have been on another side of the battlefield…but that was the worst of the worst battles. The cries of dying men and horses remained stuck in his head for months afterwards. To be honest, it had ever really gone away. And she…she could have… "You could have been killed, too," he whispered hoarsely.

The passion died for a moment as the realization that it was more than chance that had brought a US Marshal from the east to fall in love with a woman doctor in Texas. Call it fate, call it metempsychosis, as Bug did…call it whatever you wanted to …but they were destined to be together. The odds may have been against them, but somehow they had still found each other, two sides of the same coin. Soul mates. His mouth found hers again…this time with the same hunger, the same heat, but more passion.

He loved her then…not with the hesitation of a groom with a virgin bride, but with the knowledge that they belonged together. And when he gently eased himself into her, he swallowed her groan of discomfort and stilled, letting her adjust to him. It was only when she arched against him and wrapped her legs around his waist that he begin to move again, making her his in the way that was as old as time…and just as sweet. He held her when the first waves of pleasure swept over her, softly kissing her as she floated back down to earth.

She murmured something against his lips and wound her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her long chestnut hair…hair that still smelled like the four o'clocks she wore for their wedding. Sighing deeply, she pulled his face back to hers for a kiss. "We were meant to be together," he said against her lips, between kisses.

"I know," she replied, a wealth of meaning behind two simple words. "I believe a person's direction in life is not left up to chance. They may lose their way or follow false signs. A person can only be happy when they are on the right path. Mine is with you.

Nothing could have kept us apart."

Woody softly smiled down at her, fully intent on making her his once again…but some damn fool was now trying to bang their front door down. Groggily he wondered just who in the hell would interrupt a couple on their honeymoon….