Colt smiled. “My apologies. Name is Colt Ryman.”
Rebecca nodded. “Rebecca Williams. And this is Shih-chai, or Grandfather,” she added softly. “Not my grandfather, although I’d be proud if he was.”
Shih-chai smiled for the first time.
“Mrs. Williams?” Colt asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear her respond.
“Widow,” Rebecca said. “My husband died three months ago.”
There wasn’t much grief in her voice, testimony to what Shih-chai had indicated earlier, that Frank Williams was not a very good man. That pleased him; for whatever reason, it pleased him a great deal.
Shih-chai spoke. “Dent much dangerous man. Shih-chai will kill him.”
Rebecca reached for the old man. “No, Shih-chai, you will not. We will tell the sheriff.”
Shih-chai shook his head. “Sheriff do nothing.”
“He’s my brother-in-law,” snapped Rebecca. “He better do something!”
****
Colt left Rebecca and Shih-chai then, not sure what he should do. He would stay, at least for the night, but he’d bunk in the barn. Wasn’t fitting for a stranger to accept more. He only wished now he’d shot Dent when he’d had the chance, complication or no. The man’s intention to hurt Mrs. Williams—Rebecca—had probably not been diminished by Colt’s interference. That meant he was still very dangerous.
Rebecca. Even the sound of her name was sweet to his tongue.
He led his horse to the barn. It was small but sturdy, with four horse stalls and a wall of tack that indicated that Williams had invested good money in their equipage. Frank obviously cared deeply about his horses.
Apparently, he hadn’t felt quite as strongly about his wife.
Colt unsaddled his horse and brushed him down. Then he raked up a small bundle of hay and dropped it in front of the gelding. There was only a scant amount of hay left in the bunk at the end of the barn, another indication that Rebecca Williams was in desperate need.
How could he help her?
He put his hand against the flank of his horse. “You did good today, Marse,” he said.
When he returned to the house a half-hour later, Rebecca was dressed in a simple brown dress that buttoned up to her throat and boasted little adornment, apart from a strip of pearl-colored lace around her neck. She wore a large apron that accentuated her tiny waist, and her dark hair was swept back and away from her face.
She was beautiful, thought Colt. Too beautiful. That was a dangerous thing for a woman out here in the arid Arizona Territory.
And without a husband?
He stood at the doorway until Rebecca waved him inside. “Please, sit down. It’s not much of a place,” she began. “I apologize—”
“Don’t. It’s considerably better than the places I’ve stayed in over the last eleven months.”
She looked at him quizzically. “Do I need to ask if you’re an outlaw?”
Colt smiled. “I’ve been called an outlaw, but I don’t believe there’s a price on my head. Still, I haven’t stayed in one place for more than a few days at a time.”
“Oh?”
Colt scratched his head. He wasn’t sure how much he should reveal at this point. He was far too taken with this woman to jeopardize the next few minutes, or days, or—
He chuckled. “I’m a bit of a hot head,” he said apologetically, “but that’s all.”
“Hmm,” returned Rebecca, “my late husband was a hot head. He got us into a fair amount of trouble because of it.”
“Not to worry, Mrs. Williams,” Colt said. “My temper mostly flares when I see trouble on the way.”
“Well,” she said with a sigh, “looks like trouble already came. And I think it’ll be coming after you, too.”
Colt watched the color in Rebecca’s face fade. He took a step. “Please. I only wish I’d come along sooner. It ain’t right that—”
Rebecca cut him off with a wave of her hand. “No, if it weren’t for you—” Her voice cracked. “I’m so grateful. Ever so grateful.” She took a deep breath. “Shih-chai has warned me many times not to go down to the stream alone. But I never felt I had to worry—until now.”
“This country isn’t easy on a woman,” returned Colt. He eyed Rebecca carefully. “Especially for one as handsome as you.”
Rebecca glanced up, brows drawn together.
“I don’t mean any disrespect,” he added quickly.
Rebecca turned away. He could see she was suffering again. He moved closer. There was something so alluring about her. He’d never felt so drawn to a woman, and he’d never felt so tongue-tied.
She moved to the stove, a small pot-bellied affair, and stirred what appeared to be a kettle of beans. He watched her, enchanted by the way she held her head, as if listening for something.
“Shih-chai has said I should sell out. Sell out and move to town, closer to my sister, Naomi, and her husband.”
Colt listened; was she asking for his advice?
“He says I am trouble. A woman alone.” She stopped stirring and pivoted. “Am I trouble, Mr. Ryman?”
Colt felt an unmistakable rush of desire fill him. He moved across the space that separated them, and, without thinking, reached out and pulled her into his arms.
She did not resist.
“You are trouble, Mrs. Williams. And I don’t know what to do about it, except this.” Raising her face to his, he kissed her.
When she pushed him away, she was flushed.
“I think I may have to do that again,” he said, smiling suddenly.
“You will regret it if you do,” she said, pulling at the edges of her apron. “Even my husband did not—”
Colt didn’t hesitate. “Marry me, Rebecca Williams,” he whispered hoarsely. “Marry me.”
****
Without knowing why, Rebecca slapped Colt Ryman.
He pulled back, confusion registered across his chiseled face.
“Marry you?” she snapped. “Marry you! Marry any man!” She took a deep breath. “I tried that once, Mr. Ryman. I trusted Frank Williams to take care of me. No, I was a fool once. I don’t even know you.”
Colt’s face grew dark. “You need a man, Mrs. Williams. Dent, and others just like him, are going to come back. They’re going to take what they want. That includes you.”
“I’ll be ready the next time,” she said, fighting back tears.
She returned to the stove, turning her back on the man filling the emptiness around her, and busied herself. That she’d let this stranger kiss her was disturbing enough; that she’d enjoyed it was more disturbing; but the fact that she was even tempted by his preposterous proposal was the most disturbing thing of all.
She must be reeling from Dent’s attack, she decided. No wonder she’d nearly fallen apart in his large and very capable arms.
She reached out and steadied herself. “Mr. Ryman, I don’t know what would induce a man, a stranger, to presume—”
The sudden sound of boots on the wood flooring, followed by the opening and closing of the heavy plank door stifled further protest. She turned and exhaled.
Immediately, she dropped into one of the two chairs nearest the table and laid her head against her folded arms. “You fool,” she whispered. “You fool.” Then she sat up and looked around. “No man, no man,” she vowed, “will ever steal my heart again.”
****
Colt found Shih-chai repairing the broken rails of the small corral that adjoined the barn. He waited for the old Indian to acknowledge him before speaking.
“Tell me,” he said, “we both know that Mrs. Williams is not safe here.”
Shih-chai agreed.
“She’s asking for trouble,” Colt continued.
Shih-chai nodded.
“That’s why she must agree to marry me.”
Shih-chai said nothing.
“If she were to marry me, then whatever I do to protect her would be considered self-defense—”
“But why you ma
rry Becca? She hard woman.” Shih-chai shook his head. “She listen to no man.”
Colt picked up one end of the railing, no doubt broken by Dent’s men, and positioned it so that Shih-chai could drive nails in it to secure it. “I don’t know, truth be told. I’ve never been married before.” He shrugged. “Never thought to be married.”
Shih-chai picked up another nail. “She not listen to Shih-chai.”
“She will have to listen to me, and she will marry me,” Colt said. “And then I will take care of Dent and his men.”
Shih-chai nodded.
****
Carter Springs was nearly empty when Rebecca entered the mercantile at the far end of the dirt road that served as Main Street. Before she could close the door, Naomi Pope slipped inside.
“I’ve been hoping you’d come to town,” Naomi said. “Les heard that there was a situation—”
Rebecca frowned. She did not want to discuss what had happened with her sister, particularly in the middle of Harmon’s Mercantile where prying eyes and over-sized ears eagerly dined on every sordid bit of gossip.
“Naomi, this is not something—”
“Becca, the whole town’s buzzing about the stranger boarding at your place. Dent came in and said he saw you half-naked with this man three days ago! Said he’s seen him all hours of the day and night. Les is determined to arrest him if he’s half the scoundrel he seems to be.”
“No!” hissed Rebecca. “It’s not at all what Dent suggested. In fact, it was Dent who—” She looked around and, seeing that Mrs. Karl Vickers was eyeing her critically, grabbed Naomi by the arm and led her back outside. “You have no idea, Naomi. Dent—he—it was he who—and Colt—”
“Colt? This man has a first name?”
Flushing, Rebecca stammered, hoping to find a way to explain to her sister exactly what had happened. “Mr. Ryman rescued me from Dent who jumped me. Do you hear me?”
Naomi did not respond. Instead she took Rebecca’s hands in hers and whispered, “It may be so, Becca, but the town is ready to lynch Mr. Ryman.”
A sardonic laugh sounded behind them.
Rebecca turned to see Dent walking toward her. A wicked smile stretched across his face, which still bore the marks of Colt’s fist. “So, the whore comes to town?”
Rebecca steeled herself. “Naomi, this is the man who attacked me. He nearly forced himself—”
Dent laughed boldly, his eyes sweeping the area as if to be certain that he’d have an audience. “Mrs. Pope, we need to find your husband and send him out to Mrs. Williams’s place. This ne’er-do-well should be arrested. See what he did to me, even after I tried to defend your sister? I do believe he’s bewitched her.”
Rebecca could hardly contain her anger.
Naomi leaned closer. “Becca, your reputation is at stake here. You cannot be trying to defend a total stranger?”
It was then Rebecca heard the booming voice that had rescued her once before. “Step away from her, Dent. Step away or I’ll blow you to Kingdom Come.”
Naomi gasped and grabbed Rebecca’s arm.
****
Dropping his horse’s reins, Colt Ryman extended his pistol and approached an infuriated Dent.
The three or four people milling nearby stopped and turned.
Colt had seen, even from a distance, that Rebecca once more needed his help. Judging from Rebecca’s sister’s face, he suspected his name had been raised in the encounter with Dent.
“So, this must be your sister,” he said. He smiled at Naomi. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Pope, isn’t it? And I understand you’re the sheriff’s wife?”
Naomi, dumbstruck, nodded.
“That’s good,” continued Colt. “You see, Mrs. Williams—Rebecca, that is—and I were hoping to tie the knot, as it were—the sooner the better.” He smiled again. “I suspect the good sheriff could do the honors?”
Colt suspected that Rebecca would be too stunned to say anything, especially in light of the gun he was holding on Dent and the fact that her name and reputation had no doubt been jeopardized by Dent’s bravado.
Naomi nodded again. “I—I’m sure he could do that. He’s probably—he’s most likely—in his office.”
Dent growled something unintelligible, and immediately, Colt flashed him a hard glance. Then he turned to Rebecca. “Shall we?”
****
The marriage was completed less than thirty minutes later.
Naomi, apparently relieved that her sister’s reputation would be restored, in a manner of speaking, had quickly gathered a handful of assorted blossoms and shrubbery and wrapped them in the pale ribbon she’d been wearing around her own waistband. She shoved the bouquet into Rebecca’s hands even as her husband stepped around his desk and approached her. “Try to look like a happy bride,” she whispered.
Then, she offered Colt the pinky ring she’d worn since childhood. “It belonged to our mother.”
Les Pope touched Rebecca’s trembling hand. “Becca?”
She looked up at him but said nothing.
“Well,” he said, glancing from the bride to the groom, “all right.”
In truth, Rebecca didn’t know what to say or how to say what was clamoring around in her brain. She had told Colt Ryman she didn’t want to be married, again.
At the same time, she felt suddenly trapped. Trapped by the provincial rules that governed a woman’s life out here in Arizona, trapped by Dent’s assault and her implied impropriety, and trapped by the distinctly physical response she had in Colt Ryman’s presence.
She looked up at him, this hunk of a man, with whom she’d spent much of the last three days, and blushed. She could not let him know how he affected her. Not ever. Incredibly, he had not only rescued her, he’d managed to snare her heart as well.
****
Just then, Sheriff Pope cleared his throat. “We are gathered,” he began.
“Ask if there’s anyone to object,” murmured Naomi. She stood at her husband’s elbow, prodding him with her forefinger.
Colt frowned.
Naomi poked her husband again. “Well, then, ask if they will each take the other as husband or wife—”
Colt frowned again. “That’s why we’re here.”
Naomi nodded. “Of course. So, get on with it, Les.”
Les turned an irritable glance on his wife.
Colt smiled. “I do.”
Rebecca glanced up at him. “I—”
“Ahhh,” interrupted Colt, turning to the red-faced sheriff. “That’s an ‘I do’.”
“Hell,” said the Sheriff, glancing from one to the other and sighing audibly, “you are now husband and wife.”
Colt grinned. “Wasn’t so bad.” He looked down at Rebecca who was as lovely standing there in her simple brown dress, with the wilted flowers in her hands, as any bride could be. He held out his arm. “Mrs. Ryman?”
Colt escorted Rebecca out of Sheriff Pope’s office, smiling at the women who had gathered at the end of the boardwalk. “Ladies,” he said and nodded.
He knew he’d been a scoundrel, acting rashly, forcing Rebecca into a marriage she’d had no intention of accepting. But he knew, too, that she would never be safe in this town as a widow woman—alone, beautiful, and stubbornly independent.
Men like Dent would not stop until they’d had their way with her, and—only God knew why—he refused to allow that to happen.
The sheriff and his wife joined them outside on the dirt street.
“Is there someplace to get a meal, Sheriff?” Colt asked. “I’d like to celebrate. I’ve never been wed before, and I suspect a little food would do us all good.” He glanced down at his new wife. “Rebecca?”
“I never refuse a good meal,” piped Les, suddenly amiable. “Harmon’s wife, Marybelle, makes up a decent chicken supper most days. And her apple cider pie is the best in town.”
Naomi glanced up at Colt. “Well, sir, if I might say so, I’m relieved that you’ve made an honest woman of my notorious sister. You a
re a gentleman to save her from herself,” she added sagely. She looped her arm through her husband’s.
Colt’s attention remained on Rebecca. “I don’t think your sister shares the same sentiment, but I would like to believe that I’m less rogue and more responsible than many might assume. Appearances are deceiving,” he added.
And if he’d had a decent shirt to wear, he thought, looking himself over, he’d have worn it. But, be that as it may, he had found a way to lasso his bride, and nothing could dim his high hopes for their union.
Rebecca was his.
As he escorted the reluctant and tongue-tied Rebecca down Main Street, the sheriff, now his brother-in-law, and Naomi, his sister-in-law, led the way. Marybelle’s Café was the only restaurant in town, and as they moved past the throng of townspeople, he noted a number of disapproving glances. No doubt, word of the shotgun wedding had reached everyone in the small community.
He didn’t, however, see Dent in the parade of faces.
****
When Rebecca and Colt reached the farm toward evening, she immediately dismounted, dashed past Shih-chai, and ran into the house.
She’d finally realized the foolishness of her behavior on the way home from Carter Springs. With Colt Ryman riding alongside her, she had suddenly wakened to the fact that she’d gone through some kind of ceremony without argument. It could hardly be called a wedding, she decided, as she pulled open her simple clapboard armoire and pulled out the two dresses hanging there.
It was clear to her, even if it wasn’t clear to her sister or the big man now claiming to be her husband, that she had to get away.
She rolled the dresses up carelessly and gathered her few unmentionables and stockings, shoving them into the carpetbag she’d only used once—on her trip west to marry Frank. That she could not escape until nighttime she knew, but as soon as she could, she’d be gone.
She’d not be made a fool of a second time in her life!
She’d foolishly married Frank after a brief, long-distance courtship—although less brief than this apparent one—because her sister promised that Frank Williams was a successful rancher who would coddle her and love her unconditionally. After the deaths of their parents, she’d been eager to join her older sister in Arizona.
Lassoing a Bride Page 2