Lassoing a Bride

by Gail L Jenner et al.

  Smith’s mind centered on the lovely woman from the wagon. I knew a woman that beautiful couldn’t be married to the likes of him. Something in his chest gave him pause.

  “She sure got a lickin’ on the way back to the homestead, though.”

  A couple of the boys cackled.

  “My late brother sure married a dumb heifer. Bet Miz Johanna Johannsen won’t be so forgetful in the future.”

  Quickly as it had come on, the strange emotion was replaced by a burning rage that roiled up deep from the recesses of Smith’s being. The world flashed white, then faded to red, as he began skulking across the floor like a mountain lion.

  Oblivious, the cruel man leaned back and glanced out the door, his voice turning hard. “Ah, speak of the wench. Here she comes now, along with her escort.” He glanced at Smith. “Couldn’t leave her and the brat behind to ruin my plans. Looks like they’ll be coming along for the ride…and to keep her mouth shut.”

  ****

  Before Smith could move, there she was. Her complexion backlit by the gray light of early dawn and as beautiful as the first time he’d seen her earlier in the day, Johanna Johannsen looked horrifically out of place in the filthy arms of the masked outlaw. Anger contorted her features, giving her the air of a cornered cat. Cornered bobcat, Smith thought. Fire flashed in her eyes as the robber’s arm tightened across her chest. Little Sadie squeaked at her side. “What’s gonna happen, Ma?” Fear tinged her voice.

  Johanna’s brother-in-law spoke, his voice dark and raspy. “Shut up, brat!” Turning back to look at the men, he continued. “This here’s some of the Covington-Jones gang. Used to ride with the Daltons, so they claim.”

  Johanna struggled against the iron arm of her outlaw captor, a sheen of sweat masking her own face. “Then they’re as much cowards as you are, Jim.”

  With only slight recoil, Jim’s jaw dropped before scarlet colored his cheeks. Hatred glittered in his eyes as he struggled to find his voice. “Fool woman, just won’t learn…” Quicker than Smith thought possible, Jim drew his smokewagon from its leather confinement.

  Get busy livin’, Smith’s father’s words rang loudly in his ears for the first time since his unexpected death only months before. Or get busy dyin’.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, Smith sprang forward with such power that he knocked ample-bodied Jim to the ground. His threatening pistol clattered across the floor and into the shadows.

  “Get ’em, mister!” Sadie’s voice rang out above the clamor.

  Fueled by the tiny girl’s cheer, Smith drew back a fist and let it fly until it connected, with a crack, to Jim’s nose. The larger man’s natural reaction to swear dissolved into sobs and eventual silence, all in the span of a moment.

  “You never pistol-whip a woman,” Smith muttered, the sentence senseless and strange even to his own ears. Before he could rise from where he’d tumbled over Jim, a boot caught him square in the gut.

  “Cain’t do nothin’ right, can you, Ugly?” Jonesy’s voice was hot and cool at the same time, as though he had no more trouble whipping up on him as he would to slap a tick. “He was with us. Gonna make us rich men.” He kicked again, sending Smith rolling into the dusty street. “You so dumb you can’t even rob a bank right. Dumb and ugly.”

  Smith glanced up, his eyes locking with the pleading ones belonging to the beautiful Johanna. I was her hope, for a minute. Her only hope. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, the world around him fading to a blur of dark colors. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jonesy’s voice, still calm, gave testament to his black soul. “Now, time to rid the world of your dumb, ugly self.” The tell-tale click of the pistol hammer being pulled back echoed in his ear. “Say goodbye, Smith. Say goodbye to the pretty lady who is about to find out what a real man is.”

  Cruel chuckles muted Smith’s raspy breathing as that familiar fire flashed to life again within his chest.

  “Make that five real men,” the grimy outlaw tasked with holding Johanna added. “An’ I’m first.”

  Johanna’s quiet struggle gained momentum as well as volume as the masked man grasped her harder.

  The shot from the pistol silenced them all.

  ****

  Slowly, Smith opened first one eye, then the other. I’m not dead? He pushed himself into a sitting position on the chilly dirt of the main street through Gabriel’s Settlement. Patting himself, he gave life to the words. “I’m not dead!”

  A quick, flashing motion from the corner of his eye made him jump. Sadie gave Jim’s pistol a fling before dashing into Smith’s unready arms. “You’re not dead. Neither is he.”

  Not sure whether to be more startled by the young girl’s innocent hug or the moaning from behind him, Smith dared a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, Jonesy lay writhing in the soft light of morning as the coppery liquid mushroomed around him in a scarlet pool. “You shot him, Sadie?”

  Sadie nodded, burying her still-bruised little face on his shoulder.

  Before he could continue the conversation, the realization that they were still surrounded by bloodthirsty outlaws clicked hard in Smith’s mind. Flinging a protective arm up around the young girl’s back, he surveyed their audience.

  Just Johanna and her lusty captor remained. Oblivious to the goings-on, the greasy outlaw fought harder to triumph over Johanna. Johanna, however, was a fighter, and he wasn’t making much headway in his abysmal enterprise.

  “Sadie, where’s that pistol?” Smith whispered.

  Wide-eyed, Sadie stared in horror at the scene unfolding before her. “Ma!” she shrieked.

  A snap-crack from behind the sole remaining outlaw called their attention and quieted the three of them. Slowly, the lusty outlaw sank to the ground, revealing their liberator.

  Running a hand over his balding head, the bank manager adjusted his spectacles before sliding his own Colt back into its holster. Though he’d just saved their lives with the shooting iron, it looked supremely out of place hanging from his chubby hips. “I believe that settles that matter. Miss?” He gave full attention to Johanna. “Are you alright?”

  She smoothed at her dress and covered her shadowed cheek with one hand. “Yes…yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  Silent but swift, Sadie dashed to the safety of her mother’s side.

  The bank manager’s gaze fell to Smith. His eyes widened behind the glass lenses as his hand moved to his side atop his big iron again. “You!”

  Sadie’s tiny voice was as musical as the Texas sunrise, engulfing them in a moment of utter, true beauty. “No, don’t! He was tryin’ to stop it. Honest, he was.”

  Johanna didn’t wait for a reaction before chiming in. “He was. He didn’t do anything wrong, but risked his life to save ours.” Her glittering gaze fell on Smith, bringing an almost-tangible sizzle to his skin. “We owe him our lives.”

  ****

  Sadie bounced back to Smith’s side, where he still sat in the dirt and folded her arms around his neck. “You’re an angel.” She pointed to Jonesy, her eyes wide. “He wasn’t.”

  A small smile tugged the corners of Smith’s disfigured mouth upward. “It was your shootin’ I’m givin’ thanks for, Sadie.” He patted her little back in awkward thumps. “Hey, now, how come you to say I’m an angel?”

  Sadie grinned. “Angels don’t look like the rest of us. I’m eight years old today, and even I know that.”

  Smith ducked his head as Johanna stifled a quiet laugh.

  Oblivious, Sadie continued. “So, when I saw you, I said to myself, I ain’t never seen no man that looked like you before.”

  Smith’s words came before he could stop them. “You mean ugly.”

  Sadie’s blush was equally instant. “I mean handsome. You look like Pa ’fore he took the cancer and died, only different. In a good way.” She fiddled with Smith’s lapel. “So, I knowed right off you was an angel sent down from heaven from my pa.”

  Johanna’s good-natured giggles shushed in revered silence and the bank
president sucked in a hard breath. “Gabriel was a good man,” he assured Johanna quietly. “A real good man.”

  Smith nodded. “Excuse me, Sadie. I have something for the bank man.” Standing up, nobody made a move to stop him as he walked, his head high for the first time in months, back into the jail and kicked the rotten board off from over the stolen money. Plunging his hand into the hole, he retrieved it and trotted back out into the street.

  “Figured you might be needin’ this,” he said, offering the bag to the man whose spectacles were now in danger of sliding off his nose. “I hope you’ll accept my apology for my behavior.”

  Slack-jawed, he accepted the money from Smith before turning to Johanna, as if making sure he wasn’t dreaming. “I ain’t never been robbed by a man only to have the money returned a few hours later by the same man,” he said.

  Smith gestured over his shoulder into the jailhouse. “Think there may be some more bags in that hidey hole. I’ll let you check it out.” Smith ran a finger under his nose. “Guess the sheriff is locked in the church? He also mentioned something about some horses being rustled last night…”

  The bank manager clapped his hands together, the burlap bag flopping helplessly. “I knowed he was party to all the hold-ups. He never managed to catch one outlaw ’til you, and you gave the money back!” A chortle escaped his lips as beads of moisture dotted his round face.

  “Come on, Sadie,” Johanna whispered. “It’s time for us to go.”

  Something in Smith’s gut felt like it turned to stone as he watched the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on turn her back on him. Now that he’d learned she was a widow, the urge to take her in his arms was even stronger than before.

  The bank manager’s slightly nasal voice cut into his mental lament. “Will you be staying on here in Gabriel’s Settlement?”

  Johanna paused in her retreat, obviously awaiting his answer.

  Without waiting for Smith’s answer, he continued. “Because if you are, I’m prepared to offer you employment. Full time, immediately.”

  Smith stared at him as though he’d just told him that the sky was green and grass, blue. “Really? Me?”

  The chubby man ran his thumbs along the inside of his suspenders and nodded. “Yes, sir. Security for my bank. And who knows, the sheriff position may be coming open shortly, too.”

  Extending his hand, Smith shook it with a newfound zeal. “I accept. There’s just something I gotta do first.” Glancing around, he spied a dusty old lasso hanging on a post above the bone-dry horse trough. Slipping it off, he made a loop before expertly whipping it into a whirling circle above his head.

  Taking careful aim, he landed it just where he wanted. Pulling it taut but not too tight, he walked the rope until he reached the prize at the end. “I’ll stay on in Gabriel’s Settlement,” he said again, “if it’s alright with this little lady, here.”

  Slipping easily out of the lasso, Johanna was powerless to stop the smile that creased her face.

  “Ma, oh, say it’s alright! Please? You ain’t smiled like that since before Pa took sick!”

  Johanna stared back at Smith. Pulling her fist to her mouth in an effort to contain her emotion, she nodded. “It’s alright with me,” she managed, her tears beginning to flow.

  The sizzling heat was back as Smith reached out and circled an arm behind her back, pulling her close. Lemon verbena scented the air around her, intoxicating him in the best way. “You sure?” he whispered, his voice soft and the roughness hidden.

  “Sure, I’m sure,” Johanna whispered back, her breath cool on his lips.

  Tilting her chin up carefully with one callused finger, Smith sealed their unspoken promise with a kiss. When they broke from their embrace, a heat he could get used to burned in his gut. And his face. “If I’m a lucky man, I may have just lassoed me a bride in Gabriel’s Settlement, Texas.”

  Johanna’s glittering eyes never flitted away from his own. “I think your luck is getting better by the minute, Mister Smith.”

  “Can I invite him home for breakfast, Ma? Can I? Please?”

  Johanna and Smith shared a tender look. “It is her morning to make biscuits.”

  “Then, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR—SARA BARNARD

  Sara Barnard and her four awesome children make their home in the deserts of West Texas with six rescue animals and lots and lots of books. Sara has penned several bestsellers including The Calling (PRP), Desperado, Rebekah's Quilt, A Heart on Hold (5PP), and The ABC's of Texas Plants. She is working towards her masters degree and recently earned her teaching certification.

  THE BRIDE AND THE BADGE

  Livia J. Washburn

  Was Emily just bait for an outlaw trap—or did she mean more than that to the handsome Texas Ranger?

  Chapter 1

  Smoke and cinders from the diamond-shaped stack of the big Baldwin locomotive blew in through the open windows of the passenger car. From time to time Emily Savage had to cover her nose with a lace-trimmed handkerchief to lessen the stink of the acrid smoke. Having been raised on a ranch, she was far from a delicate flower, but this was her first trip on a train and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “Are you all right, dear?” asked the elderly woman sitting beside her on the bench seat. “You look a little green.”

  If the woman hadn’t been there, Emily could have slid over some and gotten farther away from the window, but of course she wasn’t going to say that.

  Instead she said, “I’m fine, thank you. I just didn’t realize that train cars rocked back and forth so much. It’s almost like what I would imagine being on a ship is like!”

  “First trip on one of these rattly, smelly contraptions, eh? Where are you bound?”

  “Buffalo Flats.”

  “To visit with relatives, I expect?”

  “One relative. My Aunt Agatha. She injured her leg, and I’m going to take care of her.”

  “I see. That’s very generous; a young, pretty girl like you giving up her time to care for an old woman.”

  It hadn’t been Emily’s idea. Her mother Lila, Aunt Agatha’s sister, had volunteered her for the task. But Emily wasn’t going to admit that to this stranger, either.

  She tucked a strand of lustrous brown hair that had escaped back under her hat and said, “Well, she’s family, after all.”

  “Still, it’s an attitude you don’t see all that often these days. In this modern world, everybody’s so busy! Sometimes I miss the old days, you know, before the war. Everything was so much simpler then. So much more genteel.”

  Emily was too young to remember the war. She had been born in the early days of the conflict, some twenty years earlier, but by the time she was old enough to recall things, General Lee had already surrendered at Appomattox and the country had started down the long, painful road of Reconstruction.

  Thankfully, West Texas had been spared much of that pain, and so had the Pitchfork Ranch, the sprawling spread established by Emily’s father Grady Savage. The state had recovered a great deal during the intervening decades, that recovery fueled by the booming cattle industry that had grown up after the war.

  Emily was aware of all that, but none of it had really touched her. She had never been the sort of tomboy that her younger sister Hope was, so life on the ranch had been rather tame. She was more interested in the domestic side of things, which had pleased her mother.

  “Lord knows I’m surrounded by enough wild Savages already,” Lila had been known to say. The pun on the family name always brought a chuckle from Emily’s father, Grady.

  “Have you been to Buffalo Flats before?” the old woman sitting next to Emily asked.

  “No. First trip on a train, first trip there. What’s it like?”

  “Oh, I’m not from there,” the old woman said. “I live in El Paso. I’m on my way back there from San Antonio. But I’ve heard plenty about it, I can tell you that. It got started as a buffalo hunters’ camp. There we
re a lot of herds in this part of the country back then. That’s how the place got its name. It was terrible, full of vice and violence.”

  Emily wanted to make some comment about how she thought things had been so much more genteel back then, but she bit her tongue.

  “It was worth a man’s life to go there in those days,” the woman continued, “and there weren’t any women.” She sniffed. “No respectable women, anyway. I won’t discuss the sort you found in such places.”

  “No, of course not,” Emily murmured.

  “Things have changed, thank goodness. It’s settled down a lot in the past few years since the herds were thinned out and the railroad came through. That brought honest businesses and decent citizens. Like your aunt, I’m sure.”

  Emily supposed that was true, although she was pretty sure Aunt Agatha had lived in Buffalo Flats since before the railroad’s arrival. Despite what her seatmate said, there must have been a few respectable women in Buffalo Flats in those days.

  “By the way, I’m Mrs. Matilda Pierce,” the woman said.

  “Emily Savage.”

  “You’re unmarried?”

  “Yes.”

  “Traveling alone?” Mrs. Pierce cocked a carefully plucked eyebrow in pending disapproval.

  Emily thought about lying, but she decided she didn’t care what this woman thought of her. She said, “That’s right.”

  “Well, I suppose such things are acceptable in this modern era.” Mrs. Pierce’s tone made it quite clear she didn’t think such things were acceptable at all.

  Emily was tired of this conversation. She tried to ignore the smoke as she turned her head and gazed out the window. The tracks ran through mostly flat, sandy terrain dotted with clumps of hardy grass and scrubby mesquites that were more bush than tree. Rugged gray mountains rose in the distance to the south of the railroad. They looked fairly close, but Emily knew they might be five miles away—or eighty. Distances were deceptive out here in this clear, dry air.