Grace
BRIDES OF THE RIO GRANDE
Peggy McKENZIE
Copyright 2016 by Peggy McKenzie
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means , including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design-Dar Dixon @ Wicked Smart Designs
Editor-Julia Tague
About this book
BOOK ONE
BRIDES OF THE RIO GRANDE SERIES
The only family Grace Sinclair has known includes three other orphans and the bawdy saloon owner who took them in eight years earlier. Grace has appointed herself big sister, friend and protector to the three younger girls, seeing to their welfare as best she can with no money, no family and no hope for much of a future. When one of her sisters kills an over-ardent saloon patron in self-defense, Grace knows her only chance of keeping her little family together is to hightail it out of town so the law will think she’s the murderess.
John Malone didn’t send for a mail-order bride, but somehow he finds himself wed to a feisty city woman hellbent on forcing him to confront the misery and loss he’s been hiding from since the devastating loss of his wife and infant son. His plan to convince the young woman he’s not a fit husband and the unsettled Colorado wilderness is not a fit place for a lady quickly goes awry, plunging him deeper into trouble when he finds himself falling for his sweet bride.
Grace’s hopes for a family of her own and a reunion with her sisters shatter when John discovers she is wanted for murder. It will take all of Grace’s courage and all of John’s faith to overcome the secrets, lies and betrayals standing between them and happy ever after.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
If you enjoyed this book…
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Peggy McKenzie & Friends
About the Author
The End
1
Kansas City, Missouri 1883
Grace Sinclair poked the dead man with her foot then looked up at the other three women standing across the body from her. “He’s dead, alright.”
Faith clung to Hope.
Charity gave the body a kick of her own.
“That’s from me, you son-of-a—”
Faith gasped. “Charity! Reverend Baker wouldn’t like you talking like that. You know he wouldn’t.”
Charity turned and spoke over her shoulder while she went to work to pull at the rug next to the bed. “I ain’t worried ‘cause we don’t have to answer to him no more. I need a little help over here. I’m trying to cover up a killin’ so we don’t all end up hanging for it.”
Grace gave Faith a hug of encouragement and went to help Hope and Charity move the rug closer to the dead man on the floor. She squatted next to Charity and pulled on the rug. Grace intended to give Charity a warning to keep her jaws closed, but she wasn’t quick enough.
Charity looked up at Faith and shook her head. “Why do you care what that old coot thinks? We’ve been gone from that damned place for almost eight years. And has he come to check on us? No. He hasn’t. Not even once. So why should I give a tinker’s ass what he thinks. Besides, what do you suppose he would think about you shooting a man to death?”
Grace watched the stubborn set of Charity’s jaw as they worked to move the heavy rug. She knew Charity’s brash words were there to cover the pain of being abandoned. But then all four of them had been dumped at the orphanage’s doorstep because they were no longer wanted by someone who should have cherished them the most. That’s why they had banded together and formed a sisterhood of sorts. It was them against the whole damn awful world.
Grace could hear Faith’s quiet sobs through the shawl she pressed against her face. “I didn’t mean to shoot him. It wasn’t like I did it on purpose. You know that, right? Please tell me you all know I didn’t do it on purpose. God is going to strike me dead.”
Grace stood and walked to where Faith stood. She reached out and gave her a heartfelt hug. “Of course we know that, sweetheart. And God isn’t going to strike you dead because you,” she tweaked Faith’s turned-up nose, “wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Well, you can’t say that now, can you?” Charity snorted.
Grace turned and gave Charity a look that brooked no argument. Charity shrugged and pushed at the rug while Hope pulled.
Grace played the peacemaker as usual. “Don’t pay any mind to her. You know she has a smart mouth. Isn’t that right, Charity?”
Charity stood, pressing her hand against her sore back. “Yeah, yeah, it’s true. Come on, Faith. Of course it’s true. You’ve known me since we huddled together in that dark, dingy orphanage. Have I ever been quiet when I had something to say?” The sarcasm oozed from Charity’s words.
Grace straightened Faith’s shawl and wiped the tears from her copper-brown skin. She looked at Hope, sending her a silent plea to do something about Charity. Hope took the hint.
“That’s right. Charity was born talking. The day she was born, the doctor smacked her on her bottom and I distinctly remember him telling her to stop crying. I swear she never even took a breath before she set to wailing.” Hope sidled next to Charity and gave her a warning look.
Grace watched the interaction between the women. They had come a long way since the sad little urchins they once were. Charity shrugged her shoulders and Hope pushed her toward the rug and the dead man lying in the middle of it.
Charity took charge once again. “Okay, ladies. This is going to require teamwork. We know Faith wouldn’t do something like this unless she was sorely provoked. And I think being practically raped is sorely provoked so let’s get this deadbeat outta here before he stinks up the place.” Charity, Grace and Hope bent down to roll the dead man onto the rug. They rose with thumb and finger pinching their noses.
Hope groaned. “Ugh. What makes a man think he can smell like last week’s garbage and then come lovin’ up on a woman. I don’t know how Rosie’s girls do — you know—what they do. It’s disgusting.”
Grace looked down at the man’s face. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t fathom where she might have seen him. A customer at the gaming tables where she dealt cards? Maybe. He was dirty and he stank to high heaven but his clothes were expensive. Definitely not the cheap stuff the regulars wore.
Hope bent down to try again. “We need to get him on the rug and outta here now. The law can’t be called because— “
Grace could tell by the look on Hope’s face what she was about to say. She might as well get it out into the open. As usual, Charity beat her to it. Damn that girl.
“Because Faith is an Indian and the law don’t hold kindly to a squaw killin’ a white man.”
“Charity! Must you be so crude?” Hope shook her head in disgust and grabbed the man’s coat to roll him over onto the rug. “I need help.”
Grace and Charity joined Hope and together they pulled the man’s coat, managing to roll the body ov
er and onto the rug. Grace looked up to see Faith still stood frozen in the corner, shaking and pulling her shawl tightly around her shoulders.
Grace stood and looked at each of the other three girls. “If we can get his body out of here and down the back stairs into the alley, there’s a good chance the marshal will blame it on a gambling deal gone bad.”
“Okay, I’ll go see if anyone is around the back stairs. Wait for my signal.” Hope poked her head out the bedroom door. She turned and gave a thumbs up then eased out in to the hallway, pulling the bedroom door behind her.
Charity sat on the bed staring at the body rolled up in the rug. “It is as quiet as a tomb in here.”
Grace glanced at her youngest sister. “Funny, Charity.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hope slipped back inside the bedroom and locked the door behind her.
“It’s all clear. Most of the girls are downstairs with their customers. But we gotta hurry. It won’t be long before they head upstairs for their nightly—you know.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down to convey the deed she didn’t want to say.
Grace approached Faith and put her arms around her shoulders.
“What about Rosie?” Faith’s voice warbled through tears.
Charity knelt by the body and flipped the edges of the rug over the dead man, making sure he was tucked inside and none of his clothes or extremities could be seen outside the edges of the rug.
“She’s downstairs too. Now’s our chance, and we have to move fast.”
Grace gave Faith another supportive hug. “It’ll be alright, sweetheart. I promise. I’ll take care of everything.
Faith nodded in understanding. “Let’s get this over with.”
Grace smiled at the frightened, timid girl.
The four women hefted the rolled-up rug. Two in front. Two in back. They made their way into the hall and down the back stairs. They were almost to the bottom of the stairs when they heard a familiar voice of authority. “Just exactly what are you girls up to?”
Rosie’s deep gravelly voice sent chills through Grace who looked heavenward and pleaded. “God, just this once, couldn’t you be on our side?”
Charity turned and blocked Rosie from getting down the stairs. “What makes you think we are up to something, Rosie? You know we wouldn’t— “
“Oh, stuff it Charity. We all know that’s a dead body rolled up in that rug. My question is why is there a dead body rolled up in that rug and what are you girls doing with it?” Rosie’s rouged lips pursed. Her pointed boot beat a cadence on the wooden stair.
Grace knew they needed to get off the stairs before someone other than Rosie spotted them. “Look, Rosie. You are like a mother to all of us.” She swept her hand to include the other three women. “You are the mother we never had. And the last thing we want to do is to involve you in this…” Her voice trailed off.
Rosie looked into the face of each woman.
“So what happened? You girls are as clever as a red fox trying to find a way into the henhouse. Tell me what the goldarn hell happened here?”
Grace nodded to the others and they lowered the rug-covered body to rest on the steps. Charity went down the stairs to keep an eye on the back door. Grace went up the stairs and stood next to Rosie. “This here stranger tried to rape our innocent Faith. She did her best to run from him, but he grabbed her, tearing her dress and hurtin’ her arm.”
Faith slid her torn sleeve up and showed Rosie the long, red welts dotted with blood on her arm.
“Why that no good son-of-a-bitch. “
Grace placed her hand on Rosie’s arm. “Faith shot him to protect her virtue. He left her no choice, Rosie. And if any one of us had been there in that same situation, we would have done the same thing.”
“She shot the bastard with the gun I give y’all?”
Grace nodded. “Yes, ma’am. With the gun you gave us.”
Rosie stood quiet for a moment. “And it don’t help Faith is…not white, does it?”
Grace nodded. “That’s right. It won’t go well for her even if she was just protecting herself.”
“Okay, then. Let’s get this son of Satan down the back stairs and out into the alley. If anyone asks, we don’t know nothin’. Besides, the law will think he was done in by a begundled business associate. Here, let me help.”
Hope looked at Rosie and then back at each of her sisters. Eyebrows raised in question, she mouthed silently, “What’s a begundled?” Thin shoulders shrugged in unison.
Grace mouthed back, “No idea.”
Rosie stomped down the steps and grabbed the end of the rug next to Hope. Grace and Charity grabbed the other end. Faith provided the lookout. They gingerly cleared the last step and peeked around the door into the alley. All clear. They made their way to the end of the alleyway and dropped the rug-wrapped body onto a garbage pile. Rosie piled more garbage on top of it.
“You girls get upstairs and stay there until I come get you. I got some thinkin’ to do.”
Rosie, their protector, hands on hips, legs akimbo, stood guard. Each one of them hugged the burly woman as they made their way back down the alley to the back steps. Grace could tell Rosie was affected by their demonstration of love. The tough, rough-around-the-edges woman didn’t let on. B but Grace knew.
Each of the sisters moved quietly up the back stairs, down the hall one at a time to their shared room. Grace closed and locked the door. No one spoke. The quiet was interrupted by the sounds of activity downstairs. Grace could hear Faith sniff from time to time. She probably should comfort the poor girl, but she couldn’t make herself move. What would become of them? They had all worked so hard to learn how to make a decent living, even if proper folk looked down on them for working in a saloon.
They owed Rosie everything. Once they reached the age of maturity and were turned out of the orphanage, they’d had no money, no trade and nowhere to sleep. When Rosie learned about their situation, she took them in off the streets and gave them jobs. Good, honest, fair-paying jobs.
Grace looked over at Charity and watched her pace back and forth across the room. Charity couldn’t keep control over her own mouth, but she was a whiz in keeping control of Rosie’s books. She could tell whether the bartender or the girls were drinking more than the customers paid for. Grace found it amazing.
Hope had always been the tidy one of their group. She washed and cleaned as if somehow she could scrub away the sadness in her heart.
And then there was Faith. She was the last of them to arrive at the orphanage. Poor, mistreated little girl with the blue-black hair and brown skin. The other orphans picked on her from her first day, calling her horrible names until the three of them stepped in and gave them what for.
Rosie’s saloon was home to them. They felt safe. Productive. Happy. But they had let their guard down and now they would pay the price.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Grace exchanged glances with the other women. “Who is it?” she called out.
“It’s me, Rosie. Let me in. I have an idea.”
Charity opened the door to let Rosie in and closed and locked it behind her.
Rosie sat on the bed. “So, here’s what we’re gonna do. My cousin Agnes wrote me this past summer. Her husband, Hiram, started a new law practice in a little mining town out west. Creede, I think is the name of the town. Anyway, she said she would be coming through here on the seventh of September on her way to her new home and was gonna stop for a visit. That’s four days from now.”
Grace waited for Rosie to continue, unsure where this trail of thought was headed. The tension among the other women was palpable.
“She also told me the leaders of this town are advertising in the Matrimonial News. The story is the town is overflowing with men. These men work in the mines, haul freight for the mines and the railroad, and then there’s the businessmen and shopkeepers. The way Aggie tells it, it’s like an anthill of men crawlin’ everywhere.” Grace watched Rosie look around the room, making eye contact with
each one of them. “But, here’s the town’s problem. There ain’t enough women in town to keep them men happy and working. They’re threatening to pull out and go somewhere they can find proper wives and start families.”
“You mean, they advertised for women? To marry?” Faith asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rosie nodded. “Yes, Faith. They need wives. And you girls need husbands.”
“Are these good men? Not like…the man in the alley?” Hope asked.
Rosie rose from the edge of the bed and walked to Hope and placed a motherly arm around her shoulders. “Of course they are. My cousin Agnes said her husband, Hiram, is in charge of investigating the men who applied for a wife. If I know my cousin, she will make damn sure these are good men or not one of them will touch a proper young lady.”
Hope and Charity exchanged glances. Charity spoke up.
“But, Rosie. We ain’t proper young ladies. We won’t past the muster.”
Rosie shook her crooked, arthritic ravaged finger at the girls. “You girls are as proper and deserving as any young lady brought up on the other side of Main Street. Don’t ever think for a goldarn minute you all ain’t good enough. And I’ll whoop anyone that says different.”
Grace smiled at the burly woman wearing garish clothing and sporting too much rouge. The townspeople looked down their noses at the likes of Rosie. And them. But there was no one Grace would rather have in her corner than Rosie O’Malley.
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