The Blacksmith's Mail Order Bride

by Cindy Caldwell

  She hung her head as he rested his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Teardrops darkened her dress as they tumbled down her cheeks.

  He cupped her chin and lifted it toward him, untying her bonnet and lifting it gently from her dark, braided hair.

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. Her heart would break if she did, and she wanted him to be happy. Will and Carol, too. And they wouldn’t be, because of her.

  “Olivia, look at me,” he coaxed as he lifted her chin higher.

  She took in a deep breath and opened her eyes, her dark eyelashes fluttering for a moment before she saw his sweet smile, laugh lines creasing his eyes.

  “There has never been, nor will there ever be, anyone so perfect for me on God’s green earth. How I was so fortunate to be there on that fateful day when you needed livery for your horses, I’ll never know. But I will be forever grateful.”

  He leaned forward and placed his warm lips gently on hers as he brushed away her tears.

  She opened her eyes again to another smile, and she sighed. “Joe, are you certain? You’ll have nothing.”

  “Olivia, I’ll have everything I want. Everything I need. And more,” he said as he drew her to him, wrapping his strong arms around her.

  She felt him tense, his arms dropping to his sides. “That is, if you’ll have me, of course,” he said, his face tight and his eyes hopeful.

  She placed her hand on his cheek, this man who’d pulled her out of the ashes that her life had become. His deep brown eyes were so earnest, so loving—and they had been since the moment they’d met, now that she thought about it.

  He hadn’t hesitated one second to marry her, covered head to toe in soot. If there ever was a “for better or worse”, that would have been it.

  Her chest heaved as she was overcome with love and gratitude. Would she have him? She knew now she couldn’t live without him, and she laid her head on his chest for a moment, the beat of his heart matching hers. She lifted her head, reaching up and pulling his face down to her as she placed her lips on his, softly and gently.

  She was lost in him, and startled when he broke away, stiffening as he looked toward the horses.

  “I think that man might be in trouble,” Joe said as he pointed over her shoulder to the tree where her horse stood.

  Olivia spun and narrowed her eyes. “Percy!” Olivia cried. She lifted her skirts and ran toward the man on the horse as it came out into the opening and he sagged to the left, dangerously close to falling face down in the dirt. His weak smile faded and his eyes closed just as Olivia reached him.

  She reached up and took his arm. Joe rushed up behind her and centered him in his saddle.

  “Percy. Percy!” Olivia cried as she frantically grabbed at his shirt. “Is he...is he...”

  Joe put his hand to Percy’s forehead.

  “No, he isn’t,” Joe said as he looked up at the road. “He’s out cold, though. Nasty wound to his knee. Think we can get him to town?”

  “We’ll have to,” Olivia said as she reached in the saddlebags and pulled out a rope she’d hoped would be there. She handed it to Joe and she loosened Percy’s collar as Joe tied him to the saddle. “Andy is a good horse and we should be fine, but we’d best hurry.”

  “Is there another rope? I’d like to tie this a bit tighter.”

  Olivia crossed to the other side of the horse and as she reached into the saddle bag, her hand closed around something cool—and metal. Her eyes grew wide as she pulled out two metal rods.

  “Joe, look,” she said as she held them out to him slowly.

  “The branding irons,” he said, his eyebrows rising as she held out the two long pieces of metal.

  “Yes, the Double Barrel Ranch branding iron and another one. The BBB brand of the thieves,” she said slowly as she glanced from the branding irons to Joe, and then to Percy.

  Chapter 38

  Olivia led the way back to town, Joe behind her and Percy’s horse trotting behind as Joe held his lead. They couldn’t travel too fast, but they’d wrapped his wound and they moved as quickly as they could.

  Still reeling from the sight of him after all this time, her thoughts raced as they turned up toward Tombstone, away from the river. He was such a good friend of her father’s, and she prayed he’d be all right. But now she had so many questions. Where had he been? Where was he the night of the fire? How had the branding irons ended up in his saddle bags?

  She shook the thoughts out of her head. They’d just have to wait until Percy came to to ask him anything at all. If they could get him out of the heat and some water in him, maybe that would be sooner rather than later.

  Her head prickled as the sun pierced her bonnet and it wasn’t a moment too soon that she saw the first houses dotting the landscape outside of Tombstone. Percy still hadn’t moved a muscle as they rode, and as they neared Joe’s grandmother’s house, one of the first on the outskirts, she turned around to see Joe’s hat pulled down, his eyes narrowed and focused on the road ahead. Georgie had started to lag, and the horse Percy was on didn’t look much stronger.

  “How about we stop at Grandma’s and get some water for the horses. It’ll just take a second and then we can ride on into town,” Joe said as he pulled his hat down further to ward off the sun.

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of a delay. Percy needed a doctor, and she needed to get those branding irons to Suzanne—or the sheriff. She hadn’t decided quite what to do as she didn’t know who stole the inventory. At least she could prove that it was hers, and Suzanne had said the man wasn’t coming back until the next day. A water stop might be good for all of them, and she waved as they approached, Joe’s grandmother in her usual position on the porch.

  “Oh, my, what have you got there?” his grandmother asked as she rushed down the porch stairs and through the gate, straight over to Percy.

  “Our ranch hand looks like he’s seen some better days,” Olivia said as she dismounted and threw her reins through the brass ring of the hitching post. “Looks like he’s been shot, and he has both of the branding irons I was looking for. We need to get him and the branding irons into town as quickly as possible.”

  “It certainly is Percy, and he sure has seen some better days,” Joe’s grandmother said as she inspected the unconscious man tied to the saddle. She pulled up the makeshift bandage they’d fashioned and cocked her head. “He’s lost a fair bit of blood, but the bullet went straight through. Not much to do for him but clean it and have him rest up,” she said as she started to untie the rope.

  “Mrs. Stanton, I think we’d better take him to the doctor,” Olivia said slowly as she reached for her gun.

  Mrs. Stanton’s hands fell to her hips. “My dear, I’ve cleaned more wounds like this than that dimwit doctor has seen in his short lifetime,” she said as she cocked an eyebrow. “You two just get him in the house and go on about your business.

  Olivia stole a quick glance at Joe and shrugged her shoulders.

  “He’ll be fine here, Olivia, and we can get to the sheriff quicker,” Joe said as he untied the last knot of the rope that held Percy to the saddle.

  They wrestled him down from the horse as gently as they could. They each took one of Percy’s arms and tugged him through the white picket fence and up the porch stairs, setting him on Mrs. Stanton’s divan.

  Olivia loosened his collar again and had started to take off his boots when Mrs. Stanton rushed in from the kitchen. “You two shoo, now. I have water on to boil and a bottle of whisky if I need it. For medicinal purposes, of course,” she said as she herded them to the door.

  Percy groaned before they reached the door, and Olivia turned back. “Percy? Percy, it’s Olivia. You’re going to be all right.”

  Percy raised his hand to his forehead and his eyes fluttered. It took a moment for him to focus, but as his eyes rested on Olivia, he smiled. “Did you find the branding irons?”

  “Yes, yes, we did. We’re taking them into town to the sheriff. Percy, w
ho did this to you?” Olivia said as she brushed the sweat and grime from his face with her handkerchief.

  “I...I don’t know. It all happened so quickly. They wore masks and I didn’t recognize the voice of the one who shot me. I passed out at first, and when I came to, I couldn’t stand up.”

  “Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry, Percy. Thank you for trying. We think we know where the inventory is, though, and with the branding irons you brought, we can prove that it belongs to us.” Olivia stood and paced in Mrs. Stanton’s parlor. “Joe, even though we don’t know who did this, we have the branding irons. Maybe Mrs. Allen got some information from the man who tried to sell it.”

  Mrs. Stanton headed into the kitchen, returning with clean cloths and a steaming bowl of water. “You two run along, now. You’ll have plenty of time to talk later. See what the sheriff has to say about all this.”

  Joe grabbed Olivia’s hand and pulled her toward the door. “He’s in good hands, Olivia. Let’s head out,” he said as he pulled her down the porch steps.

  She looked back over her shoulder at the house. This turn of events certainly wasn’t anything she’d expected. She had more questions for Percy, but for now, she knew what she needed to to prove that the inventory was hers. Maybe she’d be in for some good luck for a change.

  “Ride with me. The other two horses are in no condition,” Joe said as he held out his hand for Olivia. She hopped on the horse in front of him after she’d made sure the branding irons were secure in the saddlebags, and was comforted by his strong arm around her waist as they headed into town. At least they’d be doing whatever they had to do together.

  Chapter 39

  Men, ladies and children of all types and sizes jostled on the boardwalk along Allen Street as Joe and Olivia turned onto it and entered town proper. Joe tightened his hand over Olivia’s on the saddle horn as they approached the mercantile, dust pluming from the carriage wheels and horse hooves that passed them.

  They’d decided to go see Suzanne first, before the sheriff, and as they approached, his stomach knotted at the sight of Jimmy Joe Walker and one of his ruffians on the bench on the boardwalk, outside the mercantile. He looked up as they arrived, a sneer spreading across his face, and he leaned over and spit into the spittoon next to the bench, his eyes not leaving Olivia. They’d have to get past him, but at least this time Joe was with her.

  She seemed determined to ignore him, and after Joe had helped her down, she reached into the saddlebag and retrieved the two branding irons. She looked up and frowned as Joe narrowed his eyes at Walker and pushed his hat up on his forehead. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, pulling him on the opposite side of their horse, away from Walker’s, and they headed up the wooden steps.

  As they reached the top of the steps, Walker stood, his eyes round as saucers. “What you got there, little lady?” he said to Olivia, his eyes not leaving the metal in her hands. Just the sound of his voice was enough to cause the people on the boardwalk to scurry, and soon it was just Walker, Joe and Olivia.

  “Nothing you’d be interested in,” she said as she turned away. “The sheriff will be, though.”

  Walker took a step back and pulled at his collar, his eyes still on the branding irons. “I thought you said there weren’t any left,” he whispered loudly to the man standing next to him.

  The man shook his head and took a step back, his palms held outward toward Olivia. He walked backward a few more paces, and took a quick look at Walker before he turned and ran down the middle of the road, toward the Birdcage Theater.

  Olivia lifted the branding iron in her hand and looked from it to Walker. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and pulled his hat down on his forehead. “I’ll thank you to hand those over, Olivia,” he said, a low and slow growl that made the hair on the back of Joe’s neck stand up. He grabbed her and pulled her behind him, taking the branding irons from her hand. He wasn’t exactly sure why Walker wanted the irons, but it couldn’t be good.

  Walker took a step forward on the boardwalk as Joe held Olivia behind him. Walker stopped in front of the door to the mercantile, and Joe blanched as it opened wide.

  “I have nothing else to say to you, Will,” his mother said as she looked back over her shoulder and stepped out of the mercantile—and straight into Jimmy Joe Walker.

  Walker laughed, his gold tooth glinting in the sun. “Well, Mrs. Stanton. Fine timing you have,” he said as he grabbed her elbow and pulled her in front of him, wrapping his arm around her neck and pulling out his six-shooter.

  “Oh, no,” Olivia whispered from behind Joe. “Joe, just give him the branding irons. He’s got your mother.”

  Joe’s breath hitched in his throat as Will stepped out from the mercantile and stopped short, his eyes wide as he held his palms up at Walker and his eyes darted to Joe. “What’s going on here?”

  “Your brother has something that belongs to me, and I aim to get it.”

  “My mother has nothing to do with this,” Will said as he took a step forward.

  “Will, stand back,” Joe said as he handed the irons to Olivia and reached into the saddlebag for the shotgun—and he hung his head and fought off a curse as he came up empty. Both shotguns were in the saddlebag on the other horse and he hadn’t thought to grab them.

  “Joe, he can only want the irons because he was the one to steal the inventory. What other reason could he have?” Olivia whispered as she stepped beside Joe.

  “Walker, even if you take the branding irons, we can still prove you stole from Olivia.”

  “I did no such thing, and you can’t prove it. Not if there aren’t any irons left. It’d be your word against mine. I said, I’ll be needing those branding irons from you, Olivia.”

  Joe’s head spun as he wrestled with indecision. Walker had his mother, but he couldn’t give the irons back. This was the man who’d ruined his wife’s life, burned her farm and stolen all she had. He couldn’t let him get away with it.

  “Joe,” his mother pleaded, and his heart sunk at her voice. Her eyes were wide with terror as she trembled on the boardwalk.

  He felt Olivia’s hand on his arm and looked toward her. She nudged her chin down the street, and over Walker’s shoulder, Mrs. Allen and Mr. Archer stopped. Mr. Archer held his finger to his lips and made a circle with his hand, encouraging Joe to continue talking.

  “Okay, Walker, you win. But first, tell me why you did it,” Joe said as Olivia’s grip tightened on his arm and they watched Mr. Archer walk to the back of Walker’s horse, reach up to his saddlebag and retrieve a branding iron.

  “I told you. I didn’t do it, and you can’t prove that I did, soon as I get those irons back.”

  “Son, there’s nothing that taking those irons is going to help you with. You have a matching one here in your saddlebag. It won’t be difficult to confirm that you branded over the Double Barrel Ranch brand and stole the inventory, selling it as your own.”

  Walker wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as Mrs. Stanton squeaked. “That’s not mine. That’s not even my horse.”

  Mr. Archer looked from Walker to the JJW branded on the saddle. “You sure about that? Says JJW right here.”

  Walker’s face reddened and he tightened his arm around Mrs. Stanton. “You mind your own business, Archer. And I ain’t fooling, Joe, I’ll hurt her if you don’t hand over those brands.”

  “Go ahead and give them to him, Joe,” Olivia whispered. “Your mother is much more important than any bacon.” She squeezed his hand, her green eyes searching his face.

  The crack of a gunshot pierced the air and Joe’s heart stopped. Olivia gasped and Will ran forward, wrapping his arms around his mother just as she fainted. Walker screeched, falling to the ground as he clutched his knee.

  Joe grabbed Olivia as he looked to Mr. Archer, wondering where the shot came from. Mr. Archer looked in shock, his face red, and Joe followed his wide eyes down the boardwalk, where Mrs. Allen, her lips turned up in a sly grin,
placed her pistol back in her reticule.

  “She’s all right,” Will shouted over to Joe, and he wrapped his arms around Olivia, relief flooding his body. She clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder as she shuddered. She felt so right in his arms, and he vowed never to let her come in harm’s way again.

  “It’s all right, Olivia. You’re safe. We’re all safe.”

  Epilogue

  “Next thing you know, the boys will be joining the vigilante brigade,” Suzanne said as she took the ham out of the oven in Olivia and Joe’s kitchen the following week. “I’m sorry Sadie wasn’t there to see it—and to see this, your wedding party.”

  “She needs to rest now that the baby should be here soon. And the ruckus wouldn’t have been good for her,” Joe’s grandmother said before turning to Joe. “I bet that sure was a sight to behold, your mother standing there with Jimmy Joe Walker’s arm wrapped around her neck.” She chuckled as she shook her head. “I’m surprised she didn’t drop dead right there.”

  “Mrs. Allen sure surprised me, and it was grand that Mr. Archer spotted the branding iron in Walker’s saddlebag after she’d told him the whole story. Couldn’t have turned out better,” Joe said as he reached for a biscuit and Olivia slapped his hand.

  “We’re all just lucky it went the way it did,” she said as she set butter onto small china plates painted in vivid flowers.

  “It might not have if Percy hadn’t lived through the fire and found both of the branding irons,” Suzanne said. “Thank goodness for him. Who knew he had it in him?”

  “I did,” Joe’s grandmother said as Percy entered the room. Olivia’s eyebrows rose at the sight of him—he’d been to the barber and gotten a shave—and she nudged Joe in the side as Mrs. Stanton batted her eyelashes at him.

  “You really saved the day,” Mrs. Stanton said. “Mrs. Allen did eventually get that man from Tucson to identify Walker after the fact, but it was just another nail in his coffin.”