The Mail Order Bride's Secret

by Linda Broday

  “See anything?” Jack asked.

  Tait stared intently toward the north. “No.”

  “They got a pretty good head start, but I hoped Becky would slow them down.” Jack cussed a blue streak. “Doesn’t seem to be the case.”

  “Here, see what you can find.” Tait handed Clay the binoculars.

  * * *

  After several moments, Clay asked, “Did you look toward that watering hole, Tait?”

  “Yep, didn’t see anything. You?”

  “Maybe, unless my eyes are playing tricks on me.” Clay handed the binoculars to Jack.

  After a long moment, Jack raised his head. “Someone’s down there. Not much more than a dot. Too far away to tell anything for sure.”

  Hope surged through Tait. “Let’s ride.”

  He touched his heels to the roan’s flank, not even waiting to get the binoculars back. He galloped down the hill and had the roan stretching out in no time. His every breath, every thought, every heartbeat was focused on reaching Becky. Over the uneven ground he flew.

  They neared a place called Heaven’s Gate, where the road split two mesas. A place well known for ambushes.

  Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was a glint of the morning sun on something, or maybe the fact his horse was giving out from the hard pace. Whatever the reason, Tait began to slow his roan.

  Several strides later, shots sounded, and bullets flew around them.

  There was no brush in which to take cover. Then he spied a dry creek bed and dove into it. Jack and Clay followed. They landed in the shallow part of the creek, barely three feet deep. They ducked, returning fire at the men shooting from some large rocks halfway up the side of one of the mesas.

  It was clear to Tait that these men had fallen back to hold up anyone who came after Becky. The tactic usually worked, and frustration bit into Tait. Every second Becky was in Kern’s hands lessened her chances of survival. If she cried too much, he’d silence her. If she proved too much trouble, he’d silence her. If he lost patience for any reason, he’d silence her.

  The wound in his side burned like someone had stuck a hot poker to it. He blinked hard and labored to breathe.

  Pinned down like this they couldn’t go forward—or back. They were stuck.

  * * *

  Melanie helped clean up the shambles the cattle had left of the town, but her thoughts were on Becky and Tait. If the church wasn’t being used as a school at the moment, she’d have gone in to sit and pray. Not having ever attended services, she would feel foreign, but she’d do anything that might add the slightest chance of helping the ones she loved.

  She shuddered to imagine what losing Becky would do to Tait. He’d lost too many loved ones already. He couldn’t stand any more sorrow without breaking.

  A possibility froze her. She went into their unfinished house, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. “Dear God, please. I beg you to spare Becky’s little life. But if she has to die, let Kern kill her suddenly, without suffering. Let Tait get to her and wrench her away from the evil man. She hasn’t gotten to really live yet. Amen.”

  She felt a little better as she went back to help put the fledgling town in order once again.

  Mac came out of the hotel, and Ridge put him to work. Her father didn’t look very happy, but she didn’t care. So far he seemed to be staying away from the saloon, and that was good. She didn’t need trouble between him and the men in this town, which was like a powder keg anyway.

  The door to the telegraph office opened, and Shaughnessy hurried toward her. Each step that brought him closer made her heart pound against her ribs. She gripped the rake handle tighter.

  “Got a message for you, Mrs. Trinity.” He handed her a rumpled piece of paper.

  Melanie gave him a tired smile. “Thank you, Shaughnessy. I hope it’s good news. I can use some about now.”

  The sadness in his eyes told her much more than any words could, and her heart froze. She opened it.

  No more stalling. Bring the money and Trinity in two days or you’ll never see your sister again.

  —McIlroy

  Melanie stifled a cry and worked to keep her composure. “Can you please send a reply that I’m on my way?”

  “Absolutely. For what it’s worth, ma’am, I pray everything works out for you and Mr. Trinity.”

  Unable to trust her voice, she nodded. Her thoughts were on everything she had to do before she could leave. She glanced up at the sky. It had to be nearing noontime. Come hell or high water, she’d ride out that afternoon. Even then, she couldn’t make it to Canadian inside two days, and the judge knew it. Anger rose. He wasn’t giving her a real chance, but that had been his intention all along.

  She found Mac with Ridge picking up what was left of their outdoor bathing room, although Ridge was doing the bulk of the work. Figured. “I need a word, Mac.”

  “Sure thing.” He put down broken pieces of two poles.

  Ridge shot her a look. “Is everything all right, Miss Melanie?”

  She handed him the telegram and turned to Mac. “Can you be ready to ride in two hours? The judge is threatening to do something to Ava if I’m not there with the money and Tait in two days. Even if we left right now, we couldn’t make it in time.”

  “The bastard!” Ridge folded up the paper. “I’d go with you, but with the town left crippled, I have to stay here. I can look after the twins though. Would that help?”

  “You’re a godsend. I hesitated asking Nora or Tally. They have so much extra work with their own broods.”

  Ridge shifted. “What will you do when you get there without Tait?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I never intended to turn him over anyway. I’ll think of something between here and there.”

  “How will we cart the money?” Mac ran a hand across his stubble. “It’ll be heavy.”

  Mac didn’t inspire trust when it came to money. The old greed was starting to creep into his eyes.

  Ridge spoke, “A packhorse. It’s the only solution. You have to move fast.”

  “Will you help me load the money?” As scattered as Melanie’s thoughts were, she’d not get the sacks strapped on right and they’d lose them. And Mac didn’t know about anything other than cards.

  “You don’t even have to ask.” Ridge rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll pick out a sturdy horse and get started.”

  “Thanks, Ridge. You don’t know how much this means.”

  “I’ll pack my things, girl.” Mac headed off toward the hotel.

  With Ridge taking care of the packhorse, she turned toward the church, dreading to tell Joe and Jesse goodbye. They needed the stability she brought right now more than ever, but this couldn’t be helped.

  All eyes turned to her when she opened the door of the makeshift school. “Mr. Denver, may I have a word with Joe and Jesse please?”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  She led the boys out the door and stood on the steps. Their eyes were large, scared. Tears welled up in Jesse’s eyes. They seemed to sense bad news. “Boys, I have to ride out in an hour or so, and I wanted to come and tell you myself.”

  “Is it Becky?” Joe asked quietly.

  “No. I got an urgent telegram about my sister. She’s in a bad way.” Melanie smoothed back Joe’s hair. He was the quiet one who felt everything deepest, the one who kept his feelings the most locked up on the inside. “I hate that I have to leave you right now, but Mr. Steele is going to look after you until your uncle or I can get back.”

  “No. We can’t stay with him,” Jesse blurted. “Please don’t leave us.”

  “Honey, I have no choice. Mr. Steele’s a very nice man.”

  “He never laughs. Heck, he doesn’t even talk—or crack a smile. I don’t think he can.” Joe sat on the top step and put his head in his hands. “He only takes care of
horses. He’ll put us to bed in a horse stall and feed us hay.”

  “We’ll probably start whinnying,” Jesse predicted.

  “Stop. He will not.” Melanie added a firmness to her words. “I can’t change what’s happened. I have to leave, so you have to stiffen your upper lip and make the best of this.” She pulled the wedding tintype from her pocket. “I dearly treasure this picture of your uncle and me, and it pains me to part with it even for a little while. You boys keep it as proof to remind yourselves that both Tait and I will be back.”

  “We’ll look at it all the time,” Jesse promised, sticking it inside his shirt.

  She pulled Joe up and gave both boys a hug. “Please don’t make this harder than it is. I love you so much. Now, go back inside and mind Mr. Denver.”

  “Please don’t do this.” Joe sobbed. “Don’t leave us. You’ll never come back.”

  “Yes, I will, and that picture of me and your uncle is a promise.” She couldn’t bear the tears running down the boy’s cheeks. Any longer and she’d be a blubbering mess too.

  She kissed them then opened the door. “Now go.”

  They trudged inside as though moving toward the gallows. Tears stung her eyes, and she felt as though someone had stomped on her heart with a pair of hobnail boots.

  A few minutes later, she went up the hotel stairs to their rooms and changed into a riding skirt, soft shirt, and jacket. In quick order she threw some clothes and necessities into a bag and grabbed a brown felt hat on the way out. Ridge had almost finished strapping everything to the packhorse by the time she joined him outside the barn.

  “I threw in a skillet, a coffeepot, and some food.” He pulled the last rope tight and tied it.

  “You think of everything. I went to the school and told the boys they’re to stay with you.” She touched the former preacher’s arm. “I told them to be nice to you, but that’s not saying they will. They tend to do whatever they take a notion. Don’t hesitate in making them mind.”

  Ridge chuckled. “We’ll be just fine. Contrary to public opinion, I was once a boy myself.”

  “True. Have you seen my father?”

  “No.” Worry crossed Ridge’s angular face and sat in his amber eyes. His dark frock coat seemed to have been left from his church days, though now he never darkened the door of the place. “Are you certain he’ll get you there? I guess what I’m asking is—can you trust him?”

  Good question. And the answer was no. Especially not around money. But she pasted on a smile and fibbed. “Mac looks soft, but he can get the job done.” And if he failed her, she’d leave him and go on alone. “I’ll be fine.”

  Just then Mac Dunbar strolled up, carrying his suitcase and whistling like he was going on a Sunday stroll. “Got a horse for me?”

  Irritation crossed Ridge’s face. “Not yet. I’ve been getting the packhorse ready. You can ride that docile gray one over there. It’s about your speed.”

  The gray mare seemed to be dozing. Melanie hoped the old horse wouldn’t have to run, or they’d be in trouble.

  Ridge saddled a fine-looking black horse with a star on his forehead for her. “This is Cherokee. He’ll take care of you, Miss Melanie.”

  She rubbed the gelding’s face and sleek neck. “Hey, Cherokee. I’m glad to know you.” The horse nuzzled her palm.

  At last it was time to say goodbye. She stood on tiptoe to kiss Ridge’s cheek. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Be careful.” He slipped a gun into the saddlebag. “For security.” He gave her a hand up and handed her the reins to the packhorse.

  Melanie gave the outlaw town one last look before tucking her chin, squaring her shoulders, and riding out.

  Twenty-eight

  The sun climbed higher, and still the men in the rocks kept them pinned down. The longer Tait waited, the farther away Becky got. He had to end this. Somehow. Or they’d soon be out of ammunition.

  He glanced at the dry creek bed, noticing it got deeper farther down to where a man could stand up and still be protected. Maybe.…

  “Keep drawing their fire.” Tait stayed low and crept along the bed, eventually able to straighten and look around. The creek bed seemed to curve around the mesas.

  He hurried back. “I have an idea.”

  “I’m all ears.” Jack squatted down and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

  “I’m tired of being a sitting duck.” Clay raised his head. He’d already removed his hat, and it rested beside him. “If we only had some help, dammit. I’m ready to give those bastards up there a dose of their own medicine.”

  A projectile landed much too close, spraying dirt, and all three cussed a blue streak.

  “This may not work, but it’s worth a try.” Tait pointed to their Stetsons sitting on the ground nearby. “We’ll use our hats to make them think we have reinforcements.”

  Jack grinned. “Like put our hats on sticks up and down here?”

  “Exactly.” Tait felt hope rise. “And this creek bed appears to go around these mesas. What if two of us follow it to the back side of the shooters? We’ll leave one man here to keep firing. What do you think?”

  “It’s a good plan. We’ve got to flush them out before dark, or we’ll be in a hell of a mess.” Clay leaned back on his heels. “At least we’ll be doing something.”

  “The longer this takes, the greater the chance of running out of daylight.” Tait wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “It’s not foolproof though. Lots could go wrong.”

  Jack chuckled. “Hell, I’ve lived a lot longer than I ever thought I would.”

  Clay let out an oath. “We’re going to die anyway if we stay here. I’d rather go out fighting. I’ll volunteer to stay behind with the hats.”

  More rounds landed around them.

  “I think this’ll work.” Tait lowered his voice. “There’s no other way out of this.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Jack raised his gun and fired off two shots.

  “I’ll go along with your plan.” Clay peered over the rim of the creek, took aim, and pulled the trigger. “It’s better than mine.”

  “What was yours?” Sweat soaked Tait’s underarms, thinking of the danger.

  “Let the horses go and pretend to be dead. After not returning fire, they’d eventually come down to check on us. When they did, we could blast them into hell.” Clay chuckled. “Of course, they could fill us with lead before they even got close enough for us to shoot. Make sure we’re good and dead before they come down. That’s why I said my idea has holes.”

  Tait clenched a fist. “I want to climb those rocks and make them eat some hot lead. For Becky.” He glanced up at the sky, the sun drawing closer to the noon position.

  “For Becky,” Jack answered.

  They propped their hats on sticks, and Tait nodded. “See you on the other side of hell. If I don’t make it, take care of Melanie and the kids.”

  Clay murmured, “Same goes for us.” He reloaded his rifle. “Go.”

  As he let loose, Tait and Jack clutched their rifles, stayed low, and hurried down the bed to the deep section where they could stand up and run. When they rounded the mesas and reached the backside, they paused before climbing out to make sure those above them were still firing in Clay’s direction. Three horses tied up off to one side must belong to the gunmen.

  Tait pitched a rock against a large boulder to see if anyone would fire at it, but nothing happened. “Clear.”

  The echo of blasts from Clay’s rifle filled the air as he and Jack left the creek. They raced for cover at the foot of the mesa and began to scale the side while trying to be as silent as they could. Five feet from the top, Tait made a right turn around the land formation. If his estimation was correct, they’d come out on the hill above the shooters.

  Every nerve stood on alert. They had to hurry before the men realized they’d bee
n tricked and Clay got more than he’d bargained for. Traversing the rocks wasn’t easy, and Tait’s boots slipped several times. The sharp pain in his wounded side took his breath.

  Becky’s face swam before his vision and kept him going. She needed him.

  They were getting closer to the report of the rifles. Tait slowed in order to quiet his approach. Clay kept up a steady firing pace down below, but he had to be getting low on ammunition. The shooters had already blown the Stetsons all to hell, so they had to suspect a trick by now. Dammit.

  He inched over a few more feet and peered down.

  At last he finally got eyes on the bastards. Three of them.

  Using sign language, Tait relayed the information to Jack, then, raising his rifle, he squeezed the trigger.

  A round knocked the closest gunman against the rocks, blood spreading across his shirt. Another of them turned and glanced up, firing. The projectile grazed Jack’s arm, but he ignored it and sent a round careening down into the second shooter.

  Tait leaped from his perch onto the third man before he could take aim, losing his rifle on the way down. Tait delivered a hard blow to the man’s jaw that left Tait’s knuckles raw and bleeding. The man’s hat flew off, showing an abundance of gray hair beneath.

  The beefy older man went for Tait’s throat, squeezing, tightening, swearing he’d kill him.

  “Not today.” Thrusting his arms upward in a sudden move, Tait broke the hold. He gulped in air and jabbed an elbow into the man’s stomach. “Where is she? Where’s the girl?”

  “You’ll never find her.” The gray-haired man gasped and bent over, breathing hard.

  When he straightened, Tait noticed his large ears and tremendous height. That plus the deep bags under his eyes matched the twins’ description. Rage shot through Tait. “You killed my sister.” Tait swung a fist and connected with the bastard’s nose. Blood streamed down his face and mouth.