The Colorado Bride

by Mary Burton

  Judd bared twin rows of broken yellowed teeth. “Harvest time will be here before you know it. I’m gonna need his help.”

  Again the urge to drive his fist into the farmer’s face flared. He held back. “We aim to raise the boy as our own.”

  Judd cackled. “What the devil would you want to do that for? He’s a dirty little beggar who’s been nothing but trouble since the day he was born.”

  “That’s my business.” Cole tried to swallow the anger that demanded a hunk of Judd’s hide. He needed this conversation over and done with before he lost control. “I’ll pay you fifty dollars if you promise to leave this town for good and never return.”

  “Fifty dollars! You’re a fool to pay that kind of money for the whelp.”

  “Is it a deal or not?” Cole said tersely.

  Judd scratched his unshaven chin. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that kind of money before.”

  Cole dug in his vest pocket and pulled out fifty one-dollar bills rolled in a tight wad and tied off with a piece of rawhide. He tossed the money on the bar. “All you have to do is say yes.”

  Judd licked thin sun-cracked lips. “If you change your mind, I ain’t giving the money back.” Judd reached for the money, but Cole slammed his hand on top of the farmer’s locking it in place.

  “Yes.”

  Cole released the Judd’s hand and watched the farmer study the wad of bills before he tucked them in his pocket. “I don’t ever want to see you in White Stone again.”

  Judd smiled. “Reckon I got no reason to come back now.”

  “Dusty’s my child now.” Cole had to say the words—he wanted no misunderstandings later.

  Judd grabbed a half-full bottle of whiskey from the bar. “Whatever you say.”

  “Don’t ever come back,” Cole warned.

  Judd laughed and staggered toward the door. “Fool.”

  Cole watched the farmer push through the doors and down the boardwalk. It wasn’t until the man’s stocky frame disappeared in the distance that Cole unclenched his fingers and expelled the breath he was holding.

  Seth came up behind Cole. “Do you really think you’ve seen the last of him?”

  “Nope.”

  * * *

  Judd groaned as he plopped down under a tall oak tree on a small rise looking down on the Shady Grove Inn. The reddish-orange sun hung suspended on the horizon, bathing the town of White Stone and the Shady Grove in an amber light.

  He raised the whiskey bottle to his mouth and gulped down the remains of the liquid. He savored the way it burned his throat and dulled the pounding in his head. He wiped the excess whiskey from his lips and stared at the white clapboard house below.

  Fifty whole dollars. “Judd, you are one lucky man,” he said to himself. Once he’d had five dollars after he’d sold a horse, but never fifty. And it had been the easiest money he’d ever made.

  “To think someone as smart as Mr. Cole McGuire would waste good money on a whelp like Dusty.”

  The mountain air had turned cold and Judd hugged the tattered edges of his coat together. He raised the bottle to his lips only to remember it was empty. Angry, he tossed the bottle on the ground. It rolled down the hill toward the inn, crashed into a rock then broke into pieces.

  He thought about walking back to the Rosebud and buying another bottle. Then he remembered Cole’s warning not to return.

  He wasn’t up for the long walk to Leadville and even if he did make the fifteen-mile trek, fifty dollars wouldn’t buy so much whiskey in a boomtown. “Hell, I’d be lucky if I could get three bottles of good booze for fifty bucks.”

  Irritated, he thought back to the deal he’d struck with Cole. The delight he’d felt soured. Maybe he’d been too quick to accept McGuire’s offer.

  He glared at the lantern light that glowed from the inn’s windows. People who lived in houses like that had more money than they could shake a stick at. Probably, fifty dollars was nothing to the likes of them.

  “Damn it all,” Judd muttered. “If you’d been smart you’d have held out for seventy-five, maybe one hundred dollars.”

  Just then Rebecca McGuire’s slim figure moved in front of a lighted window. He leaned forward, unable to take his eyes off her.

  Dressed in a thick blue robe, she stared up at the starlit sky, her long blond hair draping over her shoulders. She was a beauty. Stuck-up as they came, but Judd couldn’t deny that she made a man yearn for more.

  Dusty ran up to Rebecca. She brushed the hair off the boy’s smiling face then hugged him close. Something inside Judd tightened with fury.

  It wasn’t right that the brat had a fine house to sleep in while all he had was fifty stinking dollars. His hostility grew when he considered all the years he’d clothed and fed that boy.

  “Dusty don’t deserve to live high on the hog when his old man don’t have squat.”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out the roll of dollars. He deserved better. “Years of backbreaking labor has only gotten me pennies for my trouble while the McGuires of the world get rich and have little wives to warm their beds.”

  Rebecca McGuire pulled the curtains closed.

  Judd flinched and swallowed a lump in his throat. “Here you is again, shut out of the good life.”

  McGuire hadn’t been the fool. He had been, for selling out so quick.

  The farmer pulled himself to his feet. “Seeing as Mr. McGuire ain’t home, it seems only proper I pay his wife a call.”

  * * *

  Rebecca laughed as she kissed Mac for the tenth time in five minutes. The light of her lantern glowed from a bedside table onto the twin beds where the boys lay, tucked in and ready for bed. “No, it’s time you go to bed.”

  “Mama, stay.”

  Dusty stuck out his lip. “Oh, please read us one more story.”

  “You two sidewinders have already wheedled enough of a reprieve. It’s bedtime.”

  “Mama,” Mac yelled.

  “Come on, Ma, just one more story.”

  Rebecca’s heart hitched a notch. Dusty had never called her Ma before. She walked over to his bed and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you.” She winked at him. “But good night.”

  The boys moaned and groaned as she walked out of the room, lantern in hand, and closed the door. She hesitated, listening until their giggles grew quiet.

  The house was silent expect for the chimes of the grandfather clock that marked seven o’clock. Save for the buttery glow of her lantern, it was dark.

  Normally she welcomed the quiet in the evenings, but since her marriage her loneliness was most keen at this time. This was the time reserved for husbands and wives.

  She tightened her shawl around her and went downstairs. A cup of tea would ease her worries.

  As she came down the hallway, she noticed the flicker of candlelight from the kitchen. She frowned. Cole rarely made it home before midnight and Bess wasn’t due back from her evening with the sheriff for at least an hour.

  Holding her lantern high, she called out, “Cole.”

  She froze on the threshold to the kitchen. Judd Saunders sat at her kitchen table, a six-shooter and an uncorked bottle of sherry in front of him.

  He grinned, baring yellowed broken teeth. “Evening, Mrs. McGuire.”

  Rebecca bit back a wave of panic. Her first thought was for the children tucked in their beds upstairs. Her second was for the gun hidden in the pantry. She had to get it.

  Judd raised the bottle to his lips and took a swig. “Join me for a drink, Mrs. McGuire.”

  “No, thank you, Judd,” she said, careful to keep all traces of fear from her voice.

  He snarled and glared at her with the eyes of a rattler. “I ain’t asking, I’m telling.”

  Rebecca’s breathing slowed. She heard the pounding of her heart in her ears as she took a seat across the table from him. Her nose wrinkled as she got a whiff of pigs. “What can I do for you this evening?”

  He pushed the bottle toward her. “Have a drink.”<
br />
  “I don’t drink.”

  “Drink!” he shouted.

  She started and reached for the bottle with trembling hands. She wiped the mouth of the bottle with her hand and took a sip and quickly set it back down. “Why are you here, Judd?”

  “I come to collect my boy.”

  Her throat tightened. “He’s not here.”

  Judd grinned. “Now, don’t you start lying to ol’ Judd. I don’t much take to that.”

  Fear chilled her heart. “I’m not lying.”

  “I saw him through this here window,” he said pointing over his shoulder, “not a half hour ago.”

  She wished she’d paid closer attention to Cole’s instructions regarding the shotgun now. “He left.”

  Judd slammed the sherry bottle against the table. Amber liquid sloshed on his dirty hands. He rose. His powerfully built shoulders loomed as he advanced toward her.

  The muscles in her back bunched into tight knots. “Judd, don’t take him. He’s happy and doing so well.”

  “You think I care if that brat is happy?” He jabbed his meaty thumb into his chest. “Ain’t nobody worried if Judd’s happy or not.”

  She stood and took a step back. The shotgun was less than fifteen feet from her, tucked up on the top shelf, but it might as well have been a mile away. She’d never retrieve the gun before Judd acted.

  Judd staggered forward. “What’s going on in that purdy little head of yours Mrs. High-and-Mighty?”

  She forced her nerves to calm. She glanced at the half-full bottle of sherry on the table. “You’re right, Judd.”

  “What do you mean?” he snarled.

  “No one is looking after you.” If she could connect with him, perhaps she could persuade him to leave. “Perhaps, I could get you something better to drink. Brandy, perhaps.” She turned toward the pantry.

  “Hold it right there, little missy. You think I’m stupid? You thinking you can just slip away from ol’ Judd?” He grabbed her by the arm. “Or maybe you’re thinking if I get good and liquored up, I’ll pass out.”

  “No.” She tried to twist free from his iron grip.

  “Well, I ain’t stupid. Fact, I’m getting smarter with each hour. You and your husband think you’re so smart, but you ain’t. McGuire’s a fool to think he could buy my boy from me for fifty dollars.” Shadows slashed across his craggy face giving him a more menacing look.

  “Cole paid you money.”

  Judd pulled the wad of bills from his pocket and shoved them in her face. “That’s what your man thinks Dusty’s worth. Only I figured out that that kid’s worth a whole lot more.”

  “That child is priceless.”

  Judd laughed. “I was gonna say he’s worth about one hundred dollars.”

  “I don’t have that kind of money.”

  He wrenched her arm tighter, jerking her against his fleshy body. “Everybody in this town knows you got more money than you know what to do with.”

  “You’re wrong! My first husband took it all.”

  “Then you better come up with something ol’ Judd wants or I’m taking my boy back.”

  “No!” she shouted. Her mind raced as she inventoried the belongings in her house. “I don’t have any money, but I’ve a few pieces of jewelry hidden in the sugar jar in the pantry.”

  “What good is jewels? I can’t eat or drink those.”

  “You could sell them.”

  He seemed to consider her proposal. His oily gaze slid over her. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You got anything else?”

  She clutched the ends of her shawl together. “No.”

  He pushed her forward. “Get ’em.”

  She stumbled the few steps into pantry. Trembling, she stood on tiptoe and skimmed her hands over the top shelf.

  Judd shoved her shoulder. “Hurry up, I ain’t got all day.” He loomed over her, watching, waiting. Then her fingers slid over cold metal. The gun!

  Praying for courage, she wrapped her fingers around the cold barrel and in one fluid movement jerked the gun down, swung around and pointed it at Judd. “Get back,” she said.

  Judd backed out of the pantry. “You expect me to believe you can shoot a gun? You ain’t got the backbone to draw blood.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  Judd laughed and shook his head. “And here I thought we was seeing eye to eye. I thought you was gonna be nice to ol’ Judd.”

  “Get out of my house. If you ever come back here again, I’ll kill you.” She followed him into the kitchen.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Well, I sure don’t want to get a gut full of buckshot. I’m leaving. No need to shoot.” He turned.

  Her shoulder relaxed only a fraction, but Judd took advantage. As fast as a rattler, he whirled around and snatched the gun from her hands. His eyes glowed with unchecked rage. He pointed the weapon at her. For several seconds they stared at each other—she too frightened to move, he struggling with some inner demon.

  “Judd, please, we are not worth your trouble.”

  “The hell you ain’t.” He raised the gun higher. Twin barrels were only inches from her head.

  Rebecca held up her hands in defense seconds before he turned the gun around and cracked the butt against her head.

  Blinding pain knocked her to the floor. Bile rose in her throat as she fought to stay conscious. When she raised her head, she feared it would split in two. Blood trickled down her forehead and she collapsed against the cold pine floor.

  Her last thoughts were for her children and Cole before her world went black.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rage. Fury. Madness.

  There was no word to describe the feelings inside Cole as he looked through the kitchen window and saw Rebecca lying unconscious on the kitchen floor and Judd standing over her. Bright lantern light shone on her bruised forehead and a fine trickle of blood trailing down her cheek. His heart constricted as if a fist squeezed the very life out of it.

  A savage urge to wrap his fingers around Judd’s neck and choke the life out of him surged through Cole’s body. But he held back. Judd had a gun pointed at his wife and he didn’t know where the children were.

  Cole thanked God he’d been too filled with thoughts of Rebecca to work and had left the mine shortly after the second shift had started.

  Rebecca moaned then and stirred. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. She touched her finger to her temple and winced.

  Cole would have dropped to his knees and said words of thanks, if he’d had the luxury. Instead, he slid his gun from its holster.

  Judd sneered. “Maybe that’ll teach you to mess with ol’ Judd.” A note of glee in his voice confirmed he liked preying on the weak and hurting those who couldn’t strike back.

  Rebecca’s gaze was sure and direct when she met his. “What do you want?”

  Judd scratched the thick stubble on his skin. “Seeing as I ain’t in no rush to leave now, maybe we could get to know each other better.”

  If his wife was afraid, Cole couldn’t see any signs of fear. She didn’t flinch or cower. Damn, but he was proud of her.

  She brushed a lock of hair off her face. “My husband will be home soon.”

  “I hear tell he works late every evening.”

  “He’s gonna kill you when he finds out you were here.”

  “If he can catch me.”

  Cole wrapped his long fingers around the white knob on the back door and turned it to the right. He eased the door open and took three silent steps toward Judd.

  The wind rustled outside. Judd must have realized something wasn’t right because he whirled around, shotgun in hand. He growled when he saw Cole. “Come near me and I’ll kill her.” To emphasize his point he jabbed the tip of the gun at Rebecca.

  Cole froze. He needed ice water in his veins if he was going to save Rebecca and the children.

  Wildness clouded Judd’s eyes. “I’ll do it.”

  Cole’s lips curled into a me
nacing grin. “And then you’ll die.”

  Rebecca cradled her head. “I told you he was going to come. You will be sorry if you don’t put that gun down and walk out of here.”

  Judd shook his head. “He’s never gonna let me walk outta here.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. “He’s the one that’s going to be sorry. I deserve better than what I got.”

  Cole advanced a step, a taste for blood in his mouth now. “So did Dusty.”

  Judd’s gaze shot back up to Cole. “Get back.”

  “Make me.”

  Like any bully, Judd wasn’t accustomed to being challenged. Fear flickered for just an instant in his black eyes. He was afraid and they both knew it.

  Judd snarled and pulled back the hammer of the gun as Cole fired twice. He hit Judd in the shoulder and sent him slamming against the wall, the tip of his gun jerking up. As Judd fell, his finger squeezed the trigger and he sprayed the ceiling with buckshot before he dropped to the floor, bleeding, unconscious, but alive.

  Cole’s shoulder burned. He’d been hit, but didn’t stop to worry over it. Blood oozed over his hands as he snatched the shotgun away from Judd’s limp hands. He rolled the man on his back, making certain he was no longer a threat.

  Satisfied, he hurried to Rebecca, dropped to his knees and cradled her in his arms. “Rebecca, are you all right?”

  She clung to him. “Yes.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she choked out.

  If he lived to be one hundred, he’d never be more thankful than he was at this moment. He hugged her fiercely against his chest. “When I saw him standing over you, I thought I’d go insane.”

  Rebecca’s head pounded so. She stared up at Cole. She’d never been gladder to see his grim, tight-lipped face. He was her savior, her protector, and for the first time in such a long time, she wasn’t alone.

  She raised her chin. She wanted to cry tears born of joy and relief, but she refused. “He wanted to take Dusty.”

  Cole glanced down at Judd, still unconscious. “I never would have let that happen.”

  “They were sleeping upstairs. I tried to get the gun, but he took it away from me.”

  “Shh. It doesn’t matter now. The only thing I care about is that you and the boys are safe.”