High Stakes Bride, Men of Stone Mountain Book 2

by Clemmons, Caroline

  Zach had once experienced Mrs. Gunter’s greasy stew and leaden piecrust and had no intention of punishing his stomach again. And he had to get out of here and somewhere alone before he exploded. He needed privacy a few days, away from curious stares and questions while he sorted through this mess and made new plans. As usual when he was frustrated, he reined in the sharp words he longed to speak. He and his brothers might be rough as cobs, but they’d been raised to respect women.

  “No, thank you, ma’am. Sorry I don’t have time today.” Let them think he only stopped by for his mail. “I have to get on down the road. Perhaps I’ll take you up on your offer another time.”

  Gunter followed him outside. “Don’t be a stranger, Stone. Tell your brothers hello and all of you come by when you can.”

  Though his new land didn’t adjoin either of his brothers, both were close by. “I will,” he said.

  He walked toward the livery stable but turned and gave Gunter a wave before his hasty retreat. If he didn’t get away he’d blow up and bust someone in the mouth. He stopped when he got even with the small mercantile.

  Instead of riding over an hour west to get back to his ranch and lots of questions, he’d escape to his old cabin for solitude until he could think what to do about things. Yeah, he’d step into the general store and get a week’s supplies, then head over to his valley.

  Chapter Two

  When the man turned full toward Mary Alice to wave farewell to the station master, she saw the jagged scar slashed across the left side of his face. Poor man, he must have suffered something terrible. Still, he made a fine looking fellow. The scar made his smile a mite crooked, but he had a nice look about him. She watched his long strides as he strode purposefully toward the livery stable, then he stopped. After a few seconds in what appeared to be thought, he stepped into the mercantile.

  Mary Alice figured it was about time for the stage, so she’d better climb down and buy her ticket. She’d need to unload her mules and take them and her horse to the livery. Carefully, she surveyed the town one more time. Just as she decided everything looked safe, three men stepped out of the saloon.

  Her stepbrothers and that monster, Fernando Vargas.

  Vargas kept his hat low over his face, but she recognized the awful man as he slunk around the corner like the mangy coyote she knew him to be. Frank and Rusty leaned against the wall and waited, their hats also tilted to partially conceal their faces. In the distance she saw a plume of dust heralding the stagecoach’s arrival.

  “No,” she muttered to herself. “All three of them here in Russell Springs. After all I’ve gone through to get here, they show up to block my escape.”

  She ducked down and sagged against the roof. Remorse for her sorry lot in life almost reduced her to tears. No, she couldn’t give in. Determination welled up inside her. She would get away, and make a new life for herself in Atlanta.

  Now she’d have to go with her alternate plan and try the next stagecoach stop. Careful to make no noise to alert anyone inside the building, she slipped from the roof and ran for her horse hidden in the brush.

  Hours and hours later, Mary Alice sagged in the saddle after riding most of the night. As the morning sun peeked over the horizon, she faced the truth.

  “We’re lost, Red,” she said to her horse. “Pa should of made me a map.” Too late to think of that. Even if she could find anyone to ask directions, she’d be afraid to take the risk.

  Panic raced through Mary Alice. How long could she live with this terror? The men chasing her had probably waited until yesterday’s stage pulled out, then had a few drinks. They’d likely be half a day behind, more if they camped out last night instead of riding. But with her losing time wandering about trails, she couldn’t take any chances. For all she knew, she’d been going in circles.

  She’d stopped only long enough to rest her horse and two mules. She wished Pa had taught her to find her way. Stuck at home all these years, she had no knowledge of travel or of the area. Pa had only given her directions to Russell Springs, though she’d heard him speak of other settlements in vague, generalized terms.

  As she started out of the trees, she paused at the edge of a large meadow. “Would you look, Red?” She gave his neck a pat. “Isn’t that a pretty sight?”

  A small herd of deer grazed in the early light. Sunshine turned the heavy ground frost into thousands of glistening diamonds. Though cold, the air’s freshness revived her. Mary Alice paused, the scene’s beauty creating a catch in her throat. How could her life be so tangled when majesty like this existed all around her?

  Sudden movement from the left startled her. A golden mountain lion, majestic and graceful, stalked breakfast. She wanted to yell to the deer, but it was too late. She pulled her rifle from the scabbard and took aim at the cat as it downed a doe. Lining up the site, she couldn’t make herself pull the trigger. With a shudder, she lowered her gun and replaced it in its sheath.

  “Rusty and Frank are right, Red. Reckon I’m way too softhearted. I can’t kill something no matter how mean it is. And that cat hasn’t done me any harm.”

  Saddened at the cruel cycle of nature and unable to watch the cougar devour its prey, she turned away. Red acted like the mountain lion chased him and both mules were just as nervous. For that matter, the gory sight had frayed her taut nerves.

  “Easy, Red, that cat’s not after us.” She hoped she sounded confident. “It’s found all it wants to eat today.”

  Red acted up so, she was afraid they’d attract the lion’s attention. She didn’t want that. Who knew whether or not a panther would kill just because the opportunity arose? “Okay, we’ll move across the creek, then see about breakfast.”

  Turning her animals, she took another route. When they’d crossed the narrow stream and found a small clearing, she tied the mules’ tether to a tree branch and dismounted. She looped Red’s reins around a low limb.

  “Come on, Red. Quiet down.” She patted the horse’s neck then unsaddled him. “We’ll rest a bit and then be back on our way. By then the big cat should be long gone. How about I rub you down with some of this?”

  She bent to gather a handful of thick grass. Before she knew how it happened, Red reared up on his hind legs and whinnied. One jerk of his head freed the reins, and he took off at a run.

  “Red? Come back here you ungrateful beast!” She ran after the escaping horse but he soon disappeared, probably on his way back home.

  Her heart pounded so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear the wind, though its icy fingers pricked at her face and increased her fright. Lately, life had dealt her one losing hand after another.

  Tired as she was she couldn’t carry the saddle, saddlebags, and rifle far. She dragged them down into a cedar break and hid them on the sand under a lip of stone. She wanted to sit down and bawl, but she didn’t dare waste the time or energy.

  Why couldn’t she have been blessed with a kind-hearted man to help her—one like that tall and handsome Stone man she’d seen yesterday at Russell Springs? No matter, she was bound to find one in Atlanta. For now, she’d better quit daydreaming and concentrate on saving herself.

  She trudged back to the mules. “Brownie, maybe I can lighten your load and ride you. Worth a try at least.” Since she’d only packed what she absolutely needed and wanted, that meant precious cargo must be forfeited.

  “Come on, ladies.” She tugged the lead. “We have to get you off the trail and hidden so I can scout a bit. If I climb up a high tree, maybe I can figure where the heck we’re supposed to be.”

  She shivered in the increasing wind and sniffed moisture in the air. Darkening gray replaced blue in the sky.

  “Hurry ladies,” she coaxed Brownie and Blue. “All we need is for a storm to catch me out here all alone and lost. Least I have you two to take me to the next stage stop.”

  If only she could figure where it was.

  Leading the mules down the ravine, she hid them in some cedars near her tack, then set off for a spot t
o spy out the area. Her footsteps crunched over the frosty ground and she worried she’d left a trail any fool could read. Those after her were fools all right, but crafty as the devil himself.

  Mary Alice longed to cry, to cower in the brush where she’d tied her mules, but she refused to give up. Instead, she pressed onward down the wash, then up the ridge to a grove of trees. At the edge stood a massive live oak, the only kind of tree hereabouts except cedars that stayed green all year. This one offered plenty of thick foliage to hide in. She chose a low branch, climbed up, then pulled herself a couple of limbs higher.

  Standing on the large branch to peer around, she heard a loud rustling above her and leaves drifted onto her head. Maybe a squirrel. Before she could check, she heard unmistakable voices from her left.

  Dear Lord, no! It’s them. She’d ridden all night and been so certain they lagged hours behind her. Here they were, close on her trail. She flattened herself against the trunk and prayed.

  Lord, this is your good and faithful servant Mary Alice Price here. Please help me get away from these men.

  Mary Alice stood motionless with the trunk between her and the approaching men, afraid any movement might call attention to her presence. As she quieted, she noticed a low rumble from overhead. Like a kitten purring, but louder.

  A hundred times louder.

  Through her panic, awareness hit her of a noxious smell, strong and feral. Very slowly, hoping she was wrong, she raised her head to look above her. Higher and to her right crouched the mountain lion, not three feet from her head. Her heart stopped and she almost fell.

  Her stepbrothers were every bit as dangerous as the big cat, but she could usually outwit them—at least, until this gambling debt with Vargas drove them beyond reason. Could she inch her way down the tree without the huge cat attacking her? It had just eaten its fill of deer, so maybe her long, bony frame looked unappealing.

  She observed the glossy coat. It swiped a paw at her, and she ducked, almost slipping from her perch. The claws missed by inches, and she knew she was done for.

  Talk about drawing the losing hand of cards. I’m standing between a riled mountain lion and two of the three meanest men in Texas.

  Hands shaking so she almost lost her grip on the trunk she closed her eyes and prepared to die. Soon she’d be lying on the ground as mutilated as the doe she’d seen by the creek. Or, she’d fall from the tree right at her stepbrothers’ feet. Then she’d be handed over to Vargas and wish the cat had gotten her.

  She heard Frank’s voice. “I tell you, this is the way she came. She can’t get far while we got her horse.”

  Mary Alice opened her eyes. Frank fought to keep his own horse under control. The giant cat swiveled its head at the noise and focused on this new prey. Ears back, it crouched to spring and watched her stepbrothers ride into view.

  “What the hell’s wrong with the horses?” Rusty yelled as he rode under the tree where Mary Alice and the mountain lion hid. Her horse’s reins were tied to Rusty’s saddle.

  Frank looked around. “Must smell the cat scent from that dead deer back there. We been at this too long and I’m sick to death of it. We ain’t slept in two days and I’m tired. Why don’t we camp a spell in that next grove of trees yonder."

  “I say we keep moving ‘til we catch up to that holier-than-thou bitch. Don’t know why Fernando’s so set on having her now we can pay him, but he says we deliver her or else. He’s already tired of waiting, and he ain’t a man I want riled at me. Besides, she can’t be far from here.”

  Frank’s horse reared, it’s eyes rolling wildly. Mary Alice could have stretched out her leg and let her boot touch its nose. She held her breath, praying Frank wouldn’t look up, but his concentration focused on controlling his mount.

  With an earsplitting scream, the lion sprang at the two men. The big cat missed its target and took off as the horses kicked out frantically. Frank and Rusty yelled in fright and surprise. The horses went wild and the men battled for control. Apparently forgetting her for a few moments, they raced the opposite direction from the mountain lion.

  Mary Alice sank to a branch and lay stretched out, weak as a kitten. If not for the mountain lion, those two would have caught up with her for sure. Incredulous of her reprieve, she decided she’d best get down and light a shuck under those mules before the Good Lord changed His mind about the four aces He’d just dealt her.

  Chapter Three

  Zach Stone cursed to himself. If this didn’t just round out his week from hell. All he wanted was to sleep out here alone and sort things in his mind before he went home. Even the approaching storm didn’t worry him. He’d almost welcome the discomfort to take his mind off his predicament.

  Although the desire for uninterrupted time alone had sent him toward the little cabin where he’d lived before acquiring the Warren’s vast spread, he’d changed his mind. When he rode across this spot, he’d decided to camp here a few days then head on home. Now icy wind whipped down the valley and he regretted he wasn’t snug in the cabin with the door bolted against the world.

  Zach had seen Solomon’s head raise up and ears prick forward, the big gelding’s silent announcement of visitors. Plus, Zach’s years as a lawman meant he had a keen sense of trouble dogging him. He didn’t know who watched him but someone sure as hell lurked in that stand of live oaks. Probably waited to strike until he fell asleep. Well, any two-legged varmint who thought he’d catch Zachariah Greenberry Stone unaware had damn well better think again.

  Mary Alice had smelled coffee and woodsmoke and decided to investigate. She had parked the mules, winced as she’d slipped out of Pa’s big coat, and crept closer. She rued the bad luck that had plagued her these last couple of days. Even trees hadn’t been too friendly of late, but she’d managed to climb this old live oak due to a low branch that almost dipped to the ground and acted as a step to climb higher.

  “Hurry up, mister,” she muttered softly.

  She lay along the live oak’s limb and watched the man named Stone cook his dinner—and hers, she hoped—and settle in for the night. When she’d first seen him in Russell Springs yesterday, she’d thought him a rancher but hadn’t any idea where he lived.

  Definitely the same man she’d seen in Russell Springs, but he appeared to have been camped here a couple of days. She heaved a sigh and once more wished Pa had taught her something about the area when he taught her to shoot, but he wanted her safe at home. Safe? She almost snorted to herself.

  She’d heard her two stepbrothers promise to deliver her to that devil Fernando Vargas. All to satisfy their gambling debts, as if she counted no more than a hand of cards or coins. Vargas had probably cheated at poker as he did at other things.

  She remembered overhearing Vargas brag about the women he’d used. If he got his hands on her, she’d be a goner for sure. Assuming she lived until that monster tired of her, she’d wind up chained in some Mexican brothel with no hope of escape until she died of disease or mistreatment.

  Fear dragged at her weary body. Not since Pa took sick three years ago had she had a good night’s sleep. If not for Pa’s illness, she would have gone east when Mama died.

  Back then, Pa could still control the boys and prevent them from following her, but a few weeks before Ma died, he started coughing up blood. He hid it from the boys for a couple of years, but he’d finally had to tell them he was sick from stomach cancer. A few months back he was forced to take to his bed.

  “Poor Pa.” She looked heavenward, hoping that’s where he’d ended up. “Sorry I couldn’t even see to your burying.”

  The Stone man on the ground moved and reminded her she needed to pay attention to her quarry. Shoulders wide as a door and one of the tallest men she’d ever seen let her know he’d be hard to beat in a struggle. Something told her he was a nice person, though she couldn’t say why.

  Just the same, Mary Alice thought, she’d better bide her time and wait for this giant to sleep. Pa was the only kindly man she’d met since sh
e was old enough to remember. She couldn’t take a chance on this one being any better than the rest who’d come around.

  The Stone man placed the coffeepot on a rock at the side of his campfire then did the same with a pot of what looked like beans. Next he took several slices of bacon from a frying pan and laid them on top of the beans. The grease sizzled as he dumped it onto the sand. A frigid breeze carried the pungent aroma of bacon and coffee mixed in with woodsmoke.

  Her mouth watered and her belly rumbled so loud that she feared the man might hear. She’d been without food since yesterday. First she’d feared taking time to eat more than a few cold biscuits, then she’d ditched her food when her horse ran away. Now the smell of this man's dinner had her near fainting--provided she didn’t freeze first.

  Why didn’t he give up and climb into that fancy bedroll he’d spread out earlier? Then she could slip down and get something to eat. If, that is, she could stay in this tree and not pass out from a combination of pain, fear, hunger, and fatigue.

  Clouds rolled in from the north to mask the full moon and the temperature dropped rapidly. She smelled the coming storm on the wind. Lord, but she wished he’d settle in before the storm reached them. At last he finished his preparations and crawled into his bedroll. Now all she had to do was wait until he fell asleep. How long could that take?

  Chapter Four

  Zach slipped into the bedroll and waited, pistol in hand. He feigned sleep, wondering what kind of man tarried nearby. Whoever it was could have picked Zach off, so the sidewinder must not have murder on his mind.

  Probably up to no good hiding out like that, though, because any Westerner would share his campfire and vittles with anyone who rode into camp. Zach wriggled into a comfortable spot and lay motionless. Anger at recent events helped him remain awake.

  The footfalls came so softly he almost missed them. He opened his eyes a slit, but enough to see a thin shadow move toward the fire. About then heavy clouds overhead parted and the moonlight revealed a boy who scooped up a slice of bacon and slid it into his mouth.