A Bounty Hunter and the Bride

by Vickie McDonough

  Her stubborn independence had cost her everything. Tears blurred her vision, and she stared out over the dry landscape. The leaves on the few trees in the area had changed to yellow, red, and bright orange. Most of the fields were plowed under, leaving only a few dried stalks exposed. Everything was barren and dying—just like her hopes and dreams.

  What would she tell Uncle Mason and Aunt Rebekah? Maybe she could avoid mentioning Allan altogether.

  She sighed, and Dusty glanced at her.

  “Need another break?”

  She shook her head. Could she be any more embarrassed? Having to ask this man to stop nearly every hour so she could relieve herself was so humiliating. She probably shouldn’t have even tried traveling, being eight months into her pregnancy, but she didn’t have a choice. At least they could make the journey in a day and wouldn’t have to camp out overnight.

  Katie watched a hawk circle lazily in the sky and wished her life were as carefree. She pressed against the wagon seat, hoping to relieve the ache in her back, and crossed her arms over her stomach. God had deserted her.

  First, she’d lost her sweet, loving husband after only four months of marriage.

  Now, she’d lost her home and nearly all she owned. She might even have to sell the land she and Jarrod had loved.

  Where was God in all this?

  She dreaded facing Uncle Mason, who had raised her. He was such a devout Christian man and would be disappointed in her decisions. Still, she longed to be wrapped in his protective arms. He’d comfort her and say that God had a plan—even in this.

  Katie hardened her heart and clenched her fists. Well, she wouldn’t believe it for a minute. How could losing a husband, a fiancé, and her home possibly be part of God’s almighty plan for her?

  “Why are you going to your aunt and uncle’s instead of your parents’ home?”

  Katie’s surprised blue gaze darted in Dusty’s direction. “I lost my parents when I was young, and Uncle Mason and Aunt Rebekah raised my brother, Jimmy, and me.”

  “Sorry about your parents.”

  She shrugged. “It’s all right. I don’t even remember them. I was only three when they died.”

  What would it be like to lose your parents at such a young age? At least his had lived until he was grown, having died just a year before Emily.

  Gripping the reins in his hands, he looked across the heads of the horses pulling the wagon and tried to decide what to do after he dropped off his passenger. The need to compensate her for her loss weighed heavily on him. He’d offered her the hundred-dollar bounty he’d received on Sloane, but she had refused it.

  After being a marshal, he hated accepting bounty money, but he’d spent the past year and a half hunting Sloane and capturing several other outlaws in the process. The little money he’d earned had bought food, ammunition, and the other things he’d needed while he was on the trail.

  But what should he do now?

  A sense of dissatisfaction swirled in his belly. He had imagined he’d be relishing his victory instead of feeling hollow and empty.

  “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” The scripture his mother often quoted came to mind.

  But he was after justice, not vengeance. Wasn’t he?

  The sun reflected off Mrs. Hoffman’s cast, making him wince. It was his fault she was injured, and therefore, it was his responsibility to care for her until she could support herself again. Maybe he could get a job working for her uncle or in the town closest to their farm.

  A fly buzzed in his face, and he swatted it. Looking around, he realized they’d arrived at another town. GUTHRIE, CAPITAL OF THE OKLAHOMA TERRITORY read a banner fluttering in the light breeze over Main Street. People strolled up and down the boardwalk, while wagons and riders on horses filled the streets. Two- and three-story brick buildings stood side by side, lining the dirt road. Fragrant smells of fresh-cooked food mingled with the pungent odors of animals and dust.

  Katie cleared her throat. “Uncle Mason says on the morning of the land run in 1889 that there was just the rolling hills of the prairie here, but in less than six hours, Guthrie became one of the largest cities west of the Mississippi.”

  Dusty glanced sideways at her. He’d learned the same information in school but kept silent. This was the most relaxed her voice had sounded since they’d left Claremont. “That a fact?”

  “Yes.” Her dark blue eyes twinkled, doing funny things to his insides. He focused on a fat old woman dressed in widow’s weeds so he wouldn’t dwell on how pretty his passenger looked, now that she wasn’t scowling.

  “Uncle Mason and my pa rode in that first land run. I wish I could remember more about it. Aunt Rebekah told me that there were thousands of people. She’s never seen that many people and horses in one place ever again.”

  The awe in her voice made him wish he’d experienced the historic event. “So I’m guessing your uncle won some land. You said he lives near Guthrie.”

  She shook her head and brushed a strand of white gold hair from her eyes. “Actually, my pa won the land, but he signed it over to Uncle Mason.”

  That seemed odd. Why would a man give away land he’d won fair and square?

  “People say my pa was a scoundrel.” She pressed her lips together and looked off in the distance as they pulled out of town.

  Why would she be attracted to a man like Sloane if her own father had been a rascal? But then, being a scoundrel didn’t mean her pa had been a thief or a murderer.

  About an hour later, they pulled into a farmyard. A furry brown and white dog barked a greeting and wagged his whole backside. A homey, white, two-story clapboard house with dark green trim stood on a little rise with rolling hills surrounding it. At the bottom of the rise sat a barn with a creek running past.

  Beside him, Mrs. Hoffman sighed, probably relieved to have their journey over and to be rid of him. She didn’t know it yet, but she wouldn’t be rid of him that easily.

  A matching pair of dark-haired boys who looked to be five or six years old raced out of the barn and headed straight for the wagon. A man dressed in a plaid shirt and overalls followed them at a slower pace, wiping his hands on a rag. As he drew closer, the man lifted his hat off his forehead and stared at them, a slow smile making him appear younger than Dusty had first thought. Must be her uncle Mason.

  The horses snorted and jerked their heads as the boys ran in front of them. Dusty tightened his grip on the reins to keep the animals from bolting. When they settled, he locked the brake in place.

  The boys slid to a stop at the same time, scattering dust over their feet. “Who are ya?” the twin on the left asked, wiping his arm across his nose.

  “That’s Katie.” The boy on the right pointed his skinny finger at Dusty’s passenger.

  “Nuh-uh. You don’t know nuthin’.” He gave his brother a shove. “Katie’s at her farm.”

  “Is too her.” He looked up with big brown eyes that matched his hair. His hand snaked out to pat the wiggling dog at his side. “Ain’t you?”

  “But she’s fat—” The last word echoed on a loud whisper.

  Katie sighed and nodded. “These are my twin cousins, Nathan and Nick.”

  “Ha-ha! Told you so.” Nick grinned.

  Nathan scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, obviously not happy about being wrong. Dusty bit back a laugh. He imagined the twins could be quite a handful.

  “Katie!” The farmer waved and broke into a jog but slowed when his gaze landed on her cast. “What happened?”

  She peeked at Dusty, then looked back at her uncle. “It’s a long story. This is Dusty McIntyre. He was kind enough to drive me here.”

  She waved her good hand toward him, though he didn’t miss the hint of sarcasm in her voice when she said the word kind.

  “Dusty, this is my uncle, Mason Danfield.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Dusty nodded at Katie’s uncle.

  “Same here.” Mason tipped his hat, and then his gaze land
ed on his niece’s stomach. His surprised gaze darted from her face to her belly and back. His brows dipped. “Why didn’t you tell us you were carrying a baby?”

  Katie shrugged and eased to her feet. Dusty blinked, stunned that she’d kept her child a secret. Why had she done that?

  Mr. Danfield lifted his arms to aid her. She stretched and then pressed her fists into her back. After a moment, she turned to back down the side of the wagon. Dusty held her shoulders and steadied her until Mason had a good hold on her.

  “It’s so good to have you home again, sweetheart. And just look at you.” Mason offered her his arm and shot a curious glance in Dusty’s direction. “Rebekah will be so… so surprised—and happy.”

  Feeling a bit left out of the family reunion, Dusty jumped down, dust scattering as his boots hit the ground. He strode to the rear of the wagon to check on his horse.

  What would it be like to have a big family? Or any family for that matter? Would he and Emily have children by now if she hadn’t died? Shaking off a wave of self-pity, he patted Shadow’s muzzle and untied the gelding’s reins, then led him to the water trough near the barn. His horse was all the family he needed. Less painful that way.

  As he approached the barn, a lean adolescent boy who resembled Katie’s uncle walked out carrying a pitchfork. He cast a curious glance at Dusty, nodded a greeting, and then looked toward the wagon. “What’s going on, Pa?” Suddenly, the boy’s eyes lit up. He leaned the pitchfork against the side of the barn and ran toward the house.

  Behind Dusty, a door slammed, and all manner of squeals erupted. He turned to see a brown-haired woman and a young girl hugging Mrs. Hoffman on the porch. Smiles were abundant, and the older woman stared at Mrs. Hoffman’s stomach and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.

  “I like a man whose first thought is to care for his animals.” The farmer held out his hand. “Call me Mason.”

  Dusty shook hands, noticing the farmer’s firm grip and curious stare.

  “Thanks for bringing our Katie home. We didn’t expect to see her again until maybe Christmas. And to find out that she’s carrying her late husband’s child”—he rubbed the back of his neck—“well, that’s wonderful news. It’ll give her something to remember him by.”

  Dusty knew the man wondered why he’d brought Katie home, but that was for her to tell.

  “You can put your horse in the third stall and give him some oats. I’ll unhitch the team and water them.”

  “Thanks.” Dusty nodded, grateful that Mr. Danfield didn’t pressure him into explaining. After tending to Shadow, he helped Katie’s uncle brush down the team. Together, they walked out of the barn, the setting sun casting long shadows across the ground.

  “Did y’all eat?”

  Dusty shook his head. Katie hadn’t wanted to stop in Guthrie long enough to eat dinner since they were so close to their destination, even though the food she’d packed that morning was long gone.

  “We got room for you to stay the night. You planning to head back to Claremont come morning?”

  Dusty nearly stumbled but caught himself. How could he explain to this man that he had no plans for tomorrow—or the next day for that matter—other than trying to repay Mrs. Hoffman for all the trouble he’d caused her? He stopped and studied the ground for a moment, trying to decide how much to say.

  Mr. Danfield slowed, halted his steps, and waited.

  Finally, Dusty looked up. “I want you to know that I’m responsible for Mrs. Hoffman getting hurt. I never meant for it to happen, but it did—and there’s more. I’d explain it to you, but I feel she needs to do that. Maybe we can talk after she tells you what happened.”

  Katie’s uncle looked to be sizing him up. The man stood only an inch or so shorter than Dusty, but the breadth of his shoulders was wider, probably from working his land for years. Mason nodded. Dusty waited for him to say something with that slow Southern drawl, but he turned and jogged up the stairs. Not knowing what else to do, Dusty followed.

  For some reason, he liked Mason Danfield. There was a quality to the man. And the fact that he hadn’t needled Dusty about how Katie had gotten hurt helped set him at ease. He half expected the man to grab him and shove him against the barn until Dusty confessed his part in the event.

  The screen door slammed shut as they stepped inside the cozy home. Dusty could hear women’s voices chattering like a bunch of magpies and dishes clinking in a room down the hall. The twins raced from room to room, whooping like Indians and merely slowed their pace when their father scolded them. Everywhere Dusty looked were signs of a happy family, making him feel his loss even more. He’d gotten over the deep, aching pain of losing Emily and his home, but he doubted he’d ever forget what he’d lost.

  He didn’t understand this overwhelming need to protect and care for Katie Hoffman. She didn’t belong to him—and probably would be happy to never see him again. Maybe guilt was motivating him.

  He removed his hat and hung it on a hook near the front door like Mr. Danfield had done. Dusty needed to figure out what to do next. After spending a year and a half on Sloane’s trail, he wanted to settle down, and he had to somehow learn to live a normal life again. For now, Katie Hoffman was part of that life, whether she liked it or not.

  five

  Katie yawned and stretched, then opened her eyes. The sun glistened in her window from a high angle, and she realized her family had let her sleep in. She knew she ought to feel guilty, but she was too worn out to worry about it.

  The babe in her womb flip-flopped as if it, too, had just awakened. She rubbed her hand across her stomach, wondering how many more days would pass before she would be a mother. Would she handle the birthing as well as Rebekah had? She shuddered, not wanting to think of that scary but exciting event. She knew birthing would be painful, but the joy of seeing her child for the first time would give her the strength she would need.

  Lying on her side, she studied her brother’s sparse room but failed to notice much change. Excitement tickled her insides as she thought about seeing Jimmy again. The last time she had seen her brother was after Jarrod’s funeral, when he stayed on to help her for a while.

  Katie lumbered up until she sat on the edge of the bed. How did women bear children when they had a whole passel of young ‘uns to care for?

  Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she’d skipped breakfast. She slipped off her gown, washed in the water basin, and dressed, grateful for the button-up front of her blue gingham that enabled her to dress herself, even though one hand was in a cast. The sound of deep masculine voices pulled her to the window as she ran the brush through her hair. Jimmy!

  Her eyes drank in the sight of her brother. Though he was four years older than she, they had always been close, and she’d missed him terribly when he’d gone to fight in the Spanish-American War several years ago. Mason had told her last night that Jimmy had gone to Guthrie to pick up supplies and had probably stayed overnight. She’d laughed and wondered if she’d driven straight past him as she and Dusty had ridden through town.

  When she saw Dusty, her heart gave a rebellious jump, and she scowled as she watched him shake Jimmy’s hand. If a person didn’t know better, they might think the two men were brothers, with their matching black hair and eyes and similar build. But her sweet brother was nothing like the man who’d ruined her life, no matter how good-looking that man might be.

  With the window closed, she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Turning, she bypassed her shoes and plodded barefoot down the stairs.

  “ ‘Bout time you woke up, sleepyhead.” Her cousin Deborah’s eyes glinted with humor.

  Katie reached out and tweaked her nose. “You’re getting taller, Deb.”

  “I am?” The twelve-year-old stretched up on her tiptoes and hugged Katie around the neck. “How’s Junior today?”

  “Hungry!” Katie laughed with her cousin and took her arm. “But first, I want to see Jimmy.”

  The front door groaned as De
borah pulled it open. The men stopped talking and turned in their direction.

  “Katie!” Jimmy left Dusty and jogged up the porch steps. “Whoa! Look at you.”

  A nervous giggle escaped her as her brother stared at her huge stomach. She smacked him on the arm. “Give me a hug, you big galoot.”

  Deborah laughed as she hopped off the end of the porch and disappeared around the side of the house.

  Jimmy stepped forward, arms opened, but then stopped. His dark brows furrowed. “Just how am I supposed to do that?”

  Katie smiled and shook her head at his teasing. “Just lean over.” She grabbed him by the shirt and tugged him down so she could wrap her arms around his neck. Over his shoulder, she caught Dusty coolly watching them. When she met his gaze, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a roguish grin. Her stomach lurched—probably because she hadn’t eaten anything yet.

  “Good night, sis, you’re as big as a—”

  She cupped her hand over her brother’s mouth. “Don’t you say a word, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Jimmy’s black eyes glimmered with mischief. Oh, how she’d missed him.

  “C’mon in and have some coffee with me.”

  “Can’t. Gotta unload the wagon. Dusty’s gonna help.” Jimmy adjusted his hat. “We can talk later. Work won’t keep.”

  Jimmy bounded down the stairs and walked past Dusty toward the loaded wagon that sat outside the barn. She was glad he was back home. He’d been restless the past few years. Couldn’t seem to find a place to settle. He’d stay home a couple of months, then ride out again as if he were searching for something—or someone.

  Instead of following Jimmy, Dusty ambled toward Katie, making her heart skip a beat. She wanted to dart back inside, but a woman her size didn’t do much darting. She lifted her chin and held her ground, ignoring her swirling stomach.