The Outlaw's Bride

by Catherine Palmer

  “Isobel, take cover!” Abandoning his horse, Noah sprinted across the road. The squire lay in a fetal curl, his hands wrapped around the backs of his thighs.

  “I was hoeing onions,” he moaned. “In this godforsaken town, can’t a man even hoe his onions in peace?”

  Noah rolled the man over, passing a hand across the wound where a bullet had ripped through both his legs.

  “It’s all right,” Isobel whispered to the squire’s son.

  Noah frowned to realize she had followed him. Scooping up the fallen man, he started for the squire’s house, where his hysterical wife stood in the doorway. She grabbed her son’s arm and jerked him inside.

  “Oh, is he gonna die?” she shrieked as Noah carried Wilson through the door. “My son, my son, are you all right?”

  In moments, Noah deposited the squire on a bed and headed back outside again. “I told you to take cover!” he barked at Isobel. “I can’t lose you, girl!”

  Taking her arm, he rushed her through McSween’s gate and onto the porch.

  Susan Gates threw open the door. “Isobel, did they shoot you?”

  “She’s fine,” Noah growled. “Now, get her inside and keep her safe. Tie her up if you have to.”

  Susan took Isobel’s shoulders as Noah started out. But he stepped aside just as Billy Bonney staggered into the house. Face ashen, upper lip glued to his buck teeth, he gripped Noah’s arm.

  “Buchanan, I need Doc Ealy,” he huffed. “I’m hit.”

  Noah had half a mind to let the Kid take what he deserved for pulling a dirty game on Brady and the deputies. But he slipped a supporting arm around the youth and helped him into a back room where Isobel huddled with Susan and the Ealy family.

  “Billy took a bullet in the leg,” he informed the women. “Where’s Doc?”

  “He went to help the squire,” Isobel told him.

  A skinny young man holding a rifle stood. “Dr. Ealy asked me to keep watch over the women.”

  Noah recognized him as Tunstall’s store clerk. “Well, boy, I hope you’re ready. The law is sure to come looking for Billy.”

  Everyone in the room gathered around as Noah laid the Kid on the bed. “Don’t never get shot, ladies,” he told the two little Ealy girls. “Hurts like fire.”

  “Kid, you did a fool thing gunning Brady down,” Noah growled. “Ambushed him. What was that about?”

  “It’s not how it looked, I swear. All us Regulators snuck into town last night to keep an eye on things for Mac.” Billy grimaced as Mrs. Ealy began cutting away the lower half of his trousers. “When we seen Brady headin’ our way, we knew he was gonna arrest Mac and then flood the jail and drown him. Brady organized the posse that murdered Tunstall, you know, and he never arrested nobody for the killin’. As sheriff, he weren’t never gonna get his dues, so we settled the matter ourselves.”

  “And then went through Brady’s pockets,” Noah said.

  “I was lookin’ for the warrant for McSween’s arrest. I knew Brady had it with him, but I didn’t find it before them Dolan dogs shot me.”

  “The Regulators were at South Spring the other day,” Noah said. “Did McSween and Chisum order you to ambush Brady?”

  Before the Kid could answer, Dr. Ealy hurried into the room. “George Peppin just declared himself sheriff,” the doctor puffed, jerking off his spectacles and cleaning them with the tail of his frock coat. “A Dolan man, of course. They’re saying McSween’s behind the ambush, even though he’s not in town. Peppin sent a message to Captain Purington to bring troops from Fort Stanton. They’ve sworn to arrest McSween and the Regulators, and they’re coming after Billy first.”

  “Why me?” Billy hunched up onto his elbows. “A whole passel of us shot at Brady.”

  “Oh my!” Dr. Ealy seemed to see the youth for the first time. He peered at the wounded leg. “I don’t like harboring a criminal, but Christian duty binds me. Mary, fetch my bag.”

  While Noah looked on, Dr. Ealy drew a silk handkerchief through the raw hole in Billy Bonney’s leg. Isobel and Susan mopped the trail of blood from the back door to the bed. Mary Ealy kept an eye on the window while the store clerk sawed a hole in the floor of an adjoining room.

  “Here comes George Peppin!” Mary cried out. “He’s got some deputies and a bunch of others. They’ve followed the blood in the street. Oh, what shall we do?”

  With Peppin pounding on the door, Dr. Ealy hastily bandaged Billy’s leg. The doctor and Noah helped the wounded man into the next room and lowered him into the hole in the floor. They handed him a pair of pistols before replacing the boards. The women placed a carpet and a rocking chair over the spot.

  With Noah standing watch, Isobel settled into the chair, and Susan took a stool nearby. The two Ealy girls crawled onto their laps.

  Taking the Bible from a table, Isobel began to softly read. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.”

  Peppin stomped into the room, his boots thudding on the wood floor. “We seen the trail of blood leading to the door, Buchanan, and we aim to find out where Billy Bonney has got to.”

  “You’re wasting your time, Peppin,” Noah answered. “My wife is reading the Good Book to calm the children.”

  Peppin snorted as his deputies began overturning furniture, tossing pillows to the floor, ripping curtains in their search for the Kid. Isobel kissed the cheek of the girl on her lap, and continued.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.”

  She rocked on the loose floorboards while the intruders tore up the house. If Sue McSween was unhappy with Dolan’s men before, Noah realized, she was going to be furious when she saw what they had done to her home.

  It was all he could do to stand by while the men smashed china plates, tore velvet upholstery and uprooted ferns. Isobel stroked the little girl’s golden hair and kept rocking. As the vandals stormed out of the house, Isobel’s voice continued.

  “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,” she read. “And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

  The McSweens’ home was raided two more times that day in search of Billy the Kid. The final inspection was undertaken by Captain Purington and twenty-five cavalrymen from Fort Stanton. Billy stayed hidden with his six-shooters under the floor, beneath Sue McSween’s carpet and the Bible-reading Mrs. Belle Buchanan.

  Isobel tried to calm her fears as Noah left to intercept the McSween party as they got to Lincoln. Later, Noah reported that Isaac Ellis, a McSween sympathizer, had put the group up in his house on the outskirts of town. Peppin, Captain Purington and his soldiers wasted no time in arresting McSween on the warrant retrieved from Sheriff Brady’s body.

  “Mac refused to surrender,” he told Isobel that evening as they sat on a bench on Juan Patrón’s back porch. “He said Brady’s death canceled Pippin’s status as deputy and didn’t make him sheriff.”

  “But you told me Mac turned himself in,” she said.

  “He surrendered to Captain Purington on the condition they take him to the garrison and hold him in protective custody until court convenes next week.”

  “Such lawless men, all of them.”

  “You should have heard the shouting match between Purington and Mac’s buddy Dr. Leverson. He’s English, but he’s got friends in high places. Says he knows the secretary of the interior, Carl Schurz. And he’s pals with Rutherford B. Hayes.”

  “The president of the United States?”

  “Yup. Leverson accused Purington of ignoring the Constitution by searching the house without a warrant,” Noah explained, chuckling. “Finally the captain cursed the Constitution and Leverson for a fool. So Leverson started urging the soldiers not to obey a captain who would show such contempt for the Constitution. By that time, Purington was mad as a rattler on a hot skillet.”

  Isobel shook her head.
“Everyone in Lincoln is so angry. I’m…I’m afraid, Noah.”

  He slipped his arm around her and kissed her forehead. “I’m here with you, darlin’. Nothing’s going to happen to either of us.”

  “Who told the Regulators to assassinate the sheriff?”

  Noah pondered for a long time. “I don’t know. I’d like to think our men are better than that. But, Isobel…I’m just not sure.”

  “Will it calm down now that the soldiers are here?”

  “Captain Purington’s got a twelve-pound mountain howitzer and a Gatling gun at Fort Stanton. Fear of him bringing them to town ought to keep folks in line. District court will bring a lot of people to town—people who don’t want to get shot at.”

  Isobel leaned into Noah’s embrace. “I don’t know where Snake Jackson and my land-grant titles are. I saw two more murders today. That makes six since I came to Lincoln County.”

  An image of Noah’s adobe house filtered through her thoughts. She wondered how the cow and the hens were faring. Would the corn and beans have sprouted in her garden? How high was the river flowing? Had it rained?

  Her sigh drew Noah’s attention, and he cuddled her closer. “Isobel, I’ve got my land, and I’ve got you beside me. I’m not going to let those slip away. Not for anything.”

  “But what will happen next?”

  “This evening when one of the boys sneaked into the McSween’s house to fetch Billy out from under the floor, he told me Dick Brewer had called a meeting of the Regulators. Brady was a Dolan man, but he wasn’t a bad fellow. The Regulators are going to be unwelcome in Lincoln Town.”

  “Do you think Dick wants to disband the group?”

  “Probably. He’s never been a man for violence.” Noah brushed a strand of dark gold hair from Isobel’s shoulder. “I’d like to hear what he has to say. I trust Dick’s judgment. I’d lay down my life for that man.”

  “Let’s go to the meeting,” she whispered.

  “It’s a good safe distance from Lincoln,” Noah assured her. “At a place called Blazer’s Mill.”

  To reach Blazer’s Mill, Noah, Isobel and the Regulators rode through friendly territory. Dick Brewer joined them at his farm. As they journeyed west, they picked up five new sympathizers.

  Noah and Dick insisted Isobel ride close to them. Dick was furious about Brady’s murder. The killing betrayed the true purpose of the Regulators, he said, which was to bring law and order to the county. He wanted to disband the group but the Regulators were still needed.

  Members of the posse who had shot John Tunstall roamed loose—at least two hid near the little town of Tularosa, not far from Blazer’s Mill. A huge number of Tunstall’s cattle had been stolen and driven to San Nicolas Spring near the Organ Mountains. The spring, too, could be reached from Blazer’s Mill. Worst of all, Dolan had put a bounty of two hundred dollars on any Regulator. If the group dispersed, bounty hunters could pick them off.

  Isobel studied the two men, one slender and finely carved, the other massive, as if hewn from stone. Noah and Dick were notches above the other Regulators. They were clean men, their guns polished, their horses groomed. Both were intelligent and skilled, yet they avoided violence.

  As she rode the grassy trail along the Rio Ruidoso, Isobel began to see a picture of the future. At first her thoughts seemed childish, but soon she began to pray her dreams could become real.

  She and Noah would live as husband and wife in the adobe house beside the Pecos River. They would own land and run cattle. She saw their children scampering through the front yard or wading in an irrigation ditch…little girls in pigtails…little boys with scuffed knees. A lush garden grew beside the house, rich with peas, beans, corn, chilies. Laundry flapped on a line, the New Mexico sun bleaching the linens a pure, brilliant white. Chickens scratched in the dust. The aroma of biscochitos drifted from the kitchen window. Lace curtains billowed in the breeze.

  Dick and Susan Brewer would visit, their buckboard full of children. Laughter would fill the house as the families ate together. Isobel and Susan would discuss children and recipes. Noah and Dick would linger on the porch after the little ones had gone to bed. They would speak in low voices about their land and livestock.

  “Billy was a good kid till they killed Tunstall,” Noah was saying. “Now he’s angry, reckless, hotheaded. He never thinks about the future. All he wants is revenge.”

  Dick glanced behind at the youth—little the worse for the shot that had torn up his leg a few days earlier. “Billy and Tunstall were pals. Tunstall was the first man to accept the Kid and try to help him.”

  “I’ll talk with him after lunch.” Noah checked his pocket watch as the group rounded a pile of logs beside the mill, then entered a corral near Dr. Blazer’s foursquare house. “Maybe I can make him see sense.”

  Isobel’s usual fire-and-ice demeanor seemed to have suddenly melted, Noah noted as they dismounted. She wore a peaceful, faraway gaze. It worried him.

  That morning, she had pinned her hair high on her head, all swooped up in curls and waves. Gold tendrils danced around her neck and forehead. Isobel had already earned the Regulators’ respect for her shooting and riding. Today her beauty had won their devoted admiration.

  Noah grunted. Those poor, female-starved cowboys wouldn’t know how to behave around a woman like Isobel. But they flirted and made eyes at her all the same. Some in the bunch were said to be downright handsome. Ladies thought the Kid was a charmer. He could dance better than any man Noah knew, and when he felt like it, he could be amiable—so long as a person didn’t stare at those buckteeth and droopy eyes.

  Most of the Regulators had been in the woods the night of Noah’s wedding and knew it was a sham, but Isobel made it plain she belonged with him. She slept near him each night on the trail. She rode at his side. She followed him with her eyes.

  Now, at Blazer’s Mill, she was introducing herself to Mrs. Godfroy, the wife of a government agent who rented the house from Dr. Blazer.

  “I’m Mrs. Noah Buchanan,” Isobel said.

  The woman smiled. “Would you and your friends like some dinner?”

  Dr. Blazer, a dentist, had leased his house as headquarters for the Mescalero Indian Agency. Mrs. Godfroy was known for serving a fine meal, and the men looked forward to eating there before hunkering down to talk things over.

  They were settling around the table for a meal of stew and cornbread when Noah glanced out the window. A small cloud of dust drifted up from the road the Regulators had just ridden. Now Noah spotted a lone mule and rider—a small man, loaded down with pistols, cartridge belts and rifles. He carried his right arm at an odd angle.

  A wash of ice slid down Noah’s spine. “Boys, looks like we’ve got a visitor,” he said. “Yonder comes Buckshot Roberts.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Buckshot Roberts was in the posse that shot Tunstall!” Billy Bonney shouted, grabbing his rifle and angling toward the window. The other men pushed away from the table and went for their weapons.

  “Roberts is a bounty hunter,” the Kid said. “He’ll be after that two hundred dollars Dolan put on our hides.”

  “Hold it, boys!” Dick called. “I’ve got a warrant for Buckshot’s arrest. Let’s get him to surrender.”

  “Surrender,” Billy muttered. “I’d rather put a bullet through him.”

  “Frank, you know Buckshot Roberts pretty well.” Noah addressed one of the two Coe brothers. “Why don’t you talk to him?”

  “No problem.” Frank buckled on his six-shooter and left the room.

  Noah handed Isobel a Winchester. “Buckshot Roberts is almost too crippled to lift a rifle,” he said in a low voice. “But he’s fought Indians and Texas Rangers, and he’ll stand up to all fifteen of us if he’s pushed. I want you to stay close to me.”

  She nodded, disconcerted to see these armed men in a dither over a single bounty hunter riding a mangy mule. What could one man do against so many?

  Frank Coe had begun talking to Buckshot fro
m the porch. Watching from a window, Dick shook his head. “Frank just stepped out of my line of vision. Three of you boys go arrest that little varmint.”

  Mrs. Godfroy was in a tizzy. “Mr. Brewer, you can’t shoot your guns around this place! Those men are standing by a door that leads to Dr. Blazer’s storage room. He’s got a Springfield and a thousand rounds of ammunition in there.”

  “Roberts, throw up your hands!” A voice outside the window cut off Mrs. Godfroy’s warnings.

  “Hold on,” Buckshot Roberts shouted back.

  A blast of gunfire followed. Mrs. Godfroy screamed. Everyone inside the house raced for the back door. Noah grabbed Isobel’s hand and ran behind a water trough near the corral. They crouched there, breathing hard as they loaded their Winchesters.

  Isobel peered around the trough and gasped. “Buckshot’s wounded!”

  Noah jerked her back to cover, his blue eyes flashing. “Careful, Isobel. The man is a deadeye shot.”

  “But he was hit—his stomach was covered with blood.”

  “Gut shot.” Noah took off his hat and wiped his brow. “He won’t last long.”

  Just then, Charley Bowdre and George Coe dashed around the water trough. “Loco little spitfire!” Bowdre spat. “He drew on me, so I shot him—but he won’t quit! He blew off my cartridge belt and mangled George’s finger.”

  Muttering curses, George Coe bound his hand with a bandanna. “Blasted off my trigger finger right at the joint, ornery little—”

  “Buckshot hit Billy,” Bowdre cut in. “I don’t know where he is now.”

  Isobel peered around the trough at the crippled bounty hunter who had managed to shoot four men. In the doorway to the storage room, he lay stomach down on a bloodstained mattress. His rifle was aimed at the trough.

  Perspiration trickled down Isobel’s temples as she took cover again. “Dick’s coming our way.”

  As he slid in next to Noah, Dick yanked off his hat. “How many shot here?” he asked.

  “Two. George Coe and Bowdre,” Noah answered. “They’ll live.”