Blaze! Western Series: Six Adult Western Novels

by Stephen Mertz

  "I knew there was a reason I married you." He pulled the woman close, pushed back her wide-brimmed hat and looked into her russet eyes for a moment. She tossed her head like a frisky filly and set her blond pony tail swinging. He started to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

  "J.D., please, not in public. People will talk." She glanced around, but she made no effort to push free of his embrace. He was strong in so many ways more than physical, bright blue eyes and handsome enough to make more than one of the town's women give him an appraising look. And no man would call him out, not with the broad chest, powerful hands and quick, sure movements befitting a gunfighter. The Frontier Colt slung in its cross-draw holster showed evidence of hard use and good care.

  He kissed her soundly. She protested a moment, then enjoyed it, giving as good as she got.

  "Maybe enough of these good people will be outraged, go find the marshal and he'll run me out of town for public indecency."

  "I knew it!" She swatted at his chest. This time she slipped free of his embrace. "You didn't want to kiss me at all!"

  "There you are!" A young woman, ginger hair flying from under her bonnet, waved to them and hurried across the street, dodging a freighter and a couple riders more intent on going somewhere else that wasn't Wilderness than watching for pedestrians. "I need help, Kate. Everything's falling apart!"

  "Calm down, Abbie. You're all worked up." Kate took the woman's hands and held them together. "Tell me all about it."

  "Has the groom hightailed it?" J.D. fell silent when both women glared at him. It had been too much to hope he'd get out of the wedding that easily. From the way Kate and Abigail acted, they might as well be sisters. If Jesse Smith disappeared, Kate would volunteer their services to track him down, hogtie him and drag him back. If he screamed too much, she would insist on a gag until it came time to say "I do." She did like her weddings and taking part in this one had brightened her outlook more than J.D. had seen in a spell. That wasn't bad. Her making him sit through the ceremony for people he didn't know was.

  Still, he owed her. Not a month before, they had brought down a killer who thought he ruled the roost down in Colorado. Gustav Jenks had thought a gunfight with Kate would be a fine thing, but he was as much a coward as he was a blowhard and bully. He had his men replace Kate's .44-40 rounds with duds, then had provoked a fight. J.D. had shot the gunman in the back and had never thought twice about it when he saw his wife fanning her Colt and not a single round firing. She would have had Jenks three times before he cleared leather, but the outlaw's mistake had been taking the time to gloat.

  J.D. imagined the feel of his own Colt in his grip, the way it bucked, the sight of the red flower blossoming on Jenks' back, the way the craven had half turned, a look of surprise on his face before he died. There hadn't been any call to fire a second round, even if J.D. felt like emptying his six-shooter into the son of a bitch. Instead, he had turned and plugged two of the owlhoots with him. There hadn't been any call to shoot more.

  A touch of pride came when he remembered how Kate had knocked out the punk rounds and had her six-gun reloaded in two shakes of a lamb's tail. It hadn't been necessary for her to join the fight.

  Still, she had been miffed that he had fired. She thought she could have handled it all by herself and that he had stepped on her toes. Like he did when they danced. At a wedding...

  A strong shake brought him out of his reverie.

  "J.D., wake up. This is important."

  "So Jesse lit out?"

  "You weren't listening. The parson is backing out."

  J.D. glanced at his wife to gauge her expression, then took a hard look at Abigail Hurst. Her father was the town barber. He was a hard worker and he and his wife had made a life for themselves after the war. It had puzzled J.D. at first, how such old folks had a daughter who was so young. Kate had explained that Abigail was adopted after being brought to town. Her ma and pa had been killed by an Arapaho war party. Without any other family, her future had been a dim one until the Hursts took it into their heads to give her a home—and themselves the daughter they never had.

  He wondered about that. A man usually afflicted with diarrhea of the mouth in typical barber's fashion, Custis Hurst turned silent about any time before coming to Wilderness. And Maybelle Hurst got dewy eyed. Something had happened to their children they never spoke of—or admitted openly. J.D. had skirted the question with Kate, but she was as much in the dark about the Hursts' lives as he was.

  What did it matter, anyway? They were law-abiding citizens and had raised Abigail from a terrified girl of eight to a fine woman of eighteen. He didn't know either the girl or her betrothed, but Jesse seemed like a good enough match. J.D. saw how he hung back and never said much. That showed how smart the boy was. In his boots, J.D. would do the same thing. Let the womenfolk do the talking.

  "That's not right," he said. "You want me to talk to him?"

  "Would you, Mr. Blaze? My pa is all upset over the wedding anyway." Abigail looked down at the dusty hem of her dress and wrung her hands together. "He doesn't cotton much to Jesse. He doesn't say so, but I know it." She looked up and emerald eyes flashed. "Jesse is a good man, and I'm marrying him, no matter what!"

  "Call him J.D.," Kate said. "And we'll both go talk to the parson."

  "Parson Thomas. He's in the church at the end of the street." Abigail pointed.

  "We know where it is," Kate said. "We went through the rehearsal the other night, remember?"

  "Oh, Kate, I'm so nervous. I can't remember a thing." Again her flustered attitude changed. "I can't remember anything but that I love Jesse."

  "You run along. We'll smooth out the wrinkles."

  J.D. watched Abigail go off, a spring in her step. When she was out of earshot he asked, "Now why would the parson take it into his head to refuse when the wedding is tomorrow?"

  "You can stand here in the street all day long and never find out. Let's ask him and stop guessing." Kate shifted her weight slightly. She wore a light jacket over her blouse. As she moved the shoulder rig showed for anyone looking carefully. When she was riding the trail, she wore men's clothing and carried her Colt slung like J.D.'s, in a cross-draw holster. In town she attracted too much attention carrying three pounds of iron in the open and on her hip.

  "Ma'am, would you allow me to escort you?"

  Kate curtsied and took her husband's arm.

  "I would be honored, sir."

  They strolled along, taking in the few sights that were in Wilderness. Abigail's pa worked in his barber shop, his straight razor making a cutting sound on a cowboy's week-old growth of beard that carried out into the street.

  "He needs to strop that razor a mite," J.D. said. He spoke of inconsequential things as he took in every last detail. Custis Hurst might not be happy with his daughter's choice of men, but that didn't stop him from pasting a wedding announcement in his front window.

  Kate tugged hard on his arm and hurried him along as they neared the church. Parson Thomas swung the doors shut and worked to lock them.

  "I'm so glad we caught you, Parson. Can we talk a moment?"

  Parson Thomas turned. The automatic smile on his face died when he saw the Blazes. J.D. saw a man who won confidences easily. Changing his mind about a wedding ran counter to everything about him.

  "I am in quite a hurry."

  "It's about the Hurst-Smith wedding," Kate said. "It'll only take a moment."

  J.D. moved to block the parson's path. The clergyman looked up into eyes like chips of blue polar ice and hesitated.

  "It is quite important." He tried to dodge going in the opposite direction, but this time Kate barred his way.

  "More important than a young girl's wedding? That's the most significant day of her young life. You have a moment to explain why you're not allowing the wedding in your church." Kate's words were polite but carried the same message as J.D.'s icy state.

  "I...I am not sure Mr. Smith is the right man for her. I need to counsel her and—"<
br />
  "She's decided Jesse is the man she loves. What's your objection?"

  "I—" Thomas made one last abortive attempt to flee, then sagged with defeat. He was a thin man, not too tall, with sandy hair thinning to the point of baldness on top of his head. A few careful swipes of the comb moved hair about to hide the stretch of skin there, but he'd need a miracle to ever have a full head of hair again. Even the attempt to grow a beard hadn't proven too successful.

  "You need to see Abigail's pa. He can shave you clean before you know it." J.D. kept from laughing when the parson reached not for his cheek but his throat. Matters between the bride's father and the minister appeared to be strained to the point Thomas worried about getting his throat slit.

  "Why does any of this matter to you?" The parson summoned courage and faced them squarely. From the way his eyes widened a little when he saw that Kate had a shoulder rig and pistol, he realized answering questions would be more profitable than asking.

  "I met Abbie in Rock Springs and we struck up a friendship," Kate said. "For one so young, she impressed me as having a good head on her shoulders. She isn't the flighty type and I saw how she rejected charming men who weren't any good for her. She saw right through them. I don't think Jesse Smith is the type to sweep her off her feet with sweet nothings."

  "Matters of the heart trump those of the head," Thomas muttered. "What of the groom?"

  "Spit it out, Parson. Abigail said you weren't going to allow the ceremony in the church. Why not?"

  "There have been, uh, suggestions that Jesse Smith is less than the upstanding gentleman Abigail claims. He's had a wild past." Thomas frowned. "That is, rumors hint at that. No one knows where he came from, anything about his people, even if that is his real name."

  "I've known a passel of men named Smith." J.D. inched closer to back the parson into the locked door. Evading him now was impossible. "Fact is, if he's kept his nose clean in Wilderness, it doesn't much matter what his name is, does it?"

  "Did Custis Hurst hire you? From the way you carry that six-shooter, you are accustomed to using it."

  "So am I, Parson." Kate made sure he saw the worn grip on her Colt Open Top. It was only a .22 but sufficed for any trouble she might find in Wilderness.

  "Some call us gunfighters." J.D. hitched up his gun belt for emphasis.

  "But we are here for a wedding and not for any job." Kate's words added emphasis to the message J.D. sent the preacher.

  The parson swallowed hard. Watching his Adam's apple bob presented a curious target. From the side it might be difficult to hit with a first shot. Then he found some grit and stood up to them.

  "You will leave town whenever you like, which will be soon. There isn't any call for a gunfighter in Wilderness. I must remain here and tend my flock."

  "Seems they are a bunch of busybodies spreading rumors about a newcomer to town. Does that sum it up?"

  "Yes, dear," Kate said to her husband. "Believing rumors without facts to back them up is a moral failing I wouldn't expect in a man of the cloth."

  "You don't have facts, do you?" J.D. saw the parson wilt a bit more.

  A tiny shake of his head gave the answer.

  "Then me and my missus will see you at noon tomorrow. Me and her and the Hurst family and all the wedding guests. You're going to have the church open and you're going to marry Jesse and Abigail."

  Parson Thomas' head bobbed like it was on a spring.

  "It's so nice when a man decides to do the right thing. Bless you, Parson." Kate leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. Some men would be embarrassed and blush. Thomas went pale.

  J.D. presented his arm, and he and Kate walked away.

  "That should give him enough courage to go through with the wedding," she said.

  "Courage won't have anything to do with it. We scared him plenty." J.D. wondered what had scared the parson into calling off the ceremony. Rumors wouldn't bother him much. A small town always had plenty of those to go around to keep folks entertained. Something else had frightened him, but that didn't matter now. He was scared more now, and with good reason. He saw that neither J.D. nor Kate joshed him about what they'd do.

  "I have my dress ready for the wedding," Kate said. "Would you like to see me model it for you?"

  "I'd be delighted," he said. "As long as I can help you out of it. Real slow like."

  "My intentions, exactly, darling husband, my intentions exactly."

  * * *

  "Quit squirming." Kate poked J.D. in the ribs using her elbow.

  "You look mighty pretty," he said.

  "Compliments won't work to get you out of this wedding. Stop complaining, too." She pulled him around and worked to properly fasten his string tie. "You look so handsome. We ought to get all gussied up more often."

  "That's your upbringing talking. You grew up rich."

  "Rich enough," she admitted.

  She had grown up on a moderately successful ranch, unlike J.D. His pa had worked hard, but luck always conspired against the Blaze family with locust, drought and winters so fierce the snowflakes froze so hard it wasn't until mid-summer that they melted. One of the plagues hadn't been locust—it had been the ague and took both his parents and his brother. J.D. hadn't been old enough to run a ranch by his lonesome. Even with some clever choices, the ranch had slipped from his fingers.

  He had learned to use his six-shooter and began drifting after losing the ranch to a sympathetic but strict banker.

  "Who's that with Jesse?"

  Kate glanced over, then shrugged her shapely shoulders.

  "I don't know. It must be one of the cowboys Jesse works with out on the C-Bar-C."

  "He's the one walking you down the aisle?"

  Kate's eyes twinkled.

  "That's the way it works. The best man and the matron of honor go down to join the groom, then the bride comes in."

  "I don't like the way he's eyeing you."

  "He is a handsome fellow, isn't he? What do you think? About the same age as Jesse? Twenty or so?"

  "He's too young for you."

  "That's only a couple years I have on him. Besides, he might like experienced women."

  J.D. puffed out his chest and reached across his belly, fingers seeking out the butt of his Colt in the cross-draw holster. He had left his six-shooter back in the hotel. He considered the matter, sized up Jesse's best man and knew who would come out on top in a bare knuckles fight. He had been in more fights—won more fights—than the number of times that the young buck had gotten drunk on Saturday nights.

  "The music's starting. You get on in. Sit on the bride's side of the church."

  "Don't dawdle," J.D. said. "You and him shake your tails and get to the altar fast."

  "Oh, my, and I had thought I'd saunter on down with that handsome stud on my arm so everyone could wonder about us." She stood on tiptoe, kissed him quickly and said, "You worry about the strangest things." In a low voice she explained why. J.D. wasn't the kind to blush, but he came close.

  "Go on, go on," she said, tugging on his arm and sending him toward the door.

  J.D. entered the church. It was smaller than he remembered from the other time they had been inside, but then there had only been the four of them, him, Kate, Abigail and Jesse. The boy's best man hadn't been able to make it in from the ranch, so J.D. had stood in for him. He saw that the groom's side of the church was as empty as a whore's promise. Kate had told him to sit on the Hurst side. He went to the front row, just behind Jesse.

  The groom's eyebrows rose when he saw J.D. sit down. He was the only one who even thought of sitting on this side of the church.

  "It'll be over soon," he said to the groom. "This is Abigail's day, and don't forget that. You'll get yours tonight."

  Jesse started to answer the unsolicited advice, then clamped his mouth shut. The music rose and everyone inside quieted down. J.D. looked around. On Abigail's side of the church, most of the town had shown up and sat there. That made sense since Custis Hurst worked i
n town and knew most all the men. That the wranglers Jesse worked with on the ranch hadn't shown up was a surprise. Weddings were special events that broke the usual monotony of everyday life in most towns. The ranch owner and his wife should have shown up.

  Before he could figure what that meant, the best man and Kate made their entrance. He caught his breath. For two cents, he would push Jesse out of the way and marry Kate all over again. It was supposed to be bad luck for the bridesmaid to be prettier than the bride, but Abigail would have to live with being in Kate Blaze's shadow.

  Kate flashed him a smile, then took her place on the far side of the altar. The best man stepped to the groom's side, looking nervous. He rung his hands and his eyes darted about. J.D.'s attention moved from the nervous groomsman to the doorway as Abigail came in on her pa's arm. If Custis Hurst objected to his daughter marrying a cowboy, it didn't show. He was as proud as any man had ever been.

  The parson looked as if he had bitten into a persimmon and couldn't spit it out. The ceremony went on, with the bride standing next to Jesse in front of the cleric. J.D. settled down. This part always went faster than it had any right to. Then he realized it dragged for those in the audience.

  Parson Thomas reached the part, "And if any man has reason that these two should not be joined in the bonds of holy matrimony, let them speak now or—"

  The bullet drilled smack into the middle of the parson's forehead. He looked surprised, then crumpled to the floor.

  J.D. jerked around in time to see a masked man with a rifle standing in the doorway. He reached for his six-shooter and came up empty handed. Before he could consider what to do next, three more masked men crowded in and began firing into the pews.

  He sprang to his feet and dived parallel to the floor. His arms circled Kate's legs. He felt her trying to kick free under the crinoline layers of her dress. Then his weight carried her backward so she crashed flat on her back. The sound of gunfire filled his ears. Boots thudded on the church floor. Women screamed and men groaned. Then came a silence more horrifying than the sharp reports from the rifles.