The Outlaw's Bride

by Catherine Palmer

  “Oh, more trouble here,” Doña María said, trailing a finger down the text as she read. “George Coe shot one of the Dolan bunch. It says the Fort Stanton soldiers have returned to Lincoln to keep order, and the Seven Rivers men surrendered to them.”

  “Is Captain Purington holding them at the fort?”

  “Colonel Dudley runs the garrison now.” The doña turned to Isobel. “You were in Lincoln. Do you favor Dolan or McSween?”

  “McSween is good and honest,” Isobel answered. “He carries no gun and tries to make peace. Jimmie Dolan used his mercantile to cheat the United States government so badly his business was banished from Fort Stanton. Now he plays games of deceit on the landowners. His men are murderers and thieves.”

  The old woman leaned forward, brown eyes sparkling. “It’s like a bullfight, yes? One strong and brave struggling against another, also strong and brave. Who will win?”

  “I don’t know, Doña María.”

  “Together we watch this bullfight, Señorita Matas.”

  Isobel nodded, feeling the first spark of companionship since her arrival. “We watch together.”

  The doña laughed and clapped her hands. “¡Olé!”

  Isobel enjoyed sitting with the matriarch on the portal. But she soon saw that her dreams of helping run the Pascal hacienda were impossible.

  No one in the family would hear of her riding out to see the cattle. She was kept inside, fed, pampered and clothed by the finest dressmakers in Santa Fe. She spent the days with the doña—stitching and playing cards.

  But no matter how hard she tried to play the dutiful betrothed, she could not erase Noah Buchanan from her heart. Was he still in Santa Fe? Surely not after all this time. What had become of his quest for justice against Jimmie Dolan?

  Almost a month had passed since Noah had ridden away from the Pascal hacienda. The newspapers never mentioned his name. Susan Gates wrote to Isobel twice, but she said nothing about the cowboy.

  Dr. Ealy sent a letter saying he had registered the Matas-Buchanan marriage with Squire Wilson. When Governor Axtell had voided Wilson’s appointment as justice of the peace, it had complicated matters. Wilson was still recovering from his wounds, but he had assured Dr. Ealy that he would find a way to look back through the records and see what could be done to quickly annul the union.

  Feeding sunflower seeds to the green parrot one morning at the end of May, Isobel heard someone join her on the portal. She supposed it was Doña María, for they always sat together at this time of day to read and chat.

  Over the weeks, Isobel had weighed her options and decided to return to Spain. After Dr. Ealy confirmed the dissolution of her marriage to Noah, she would rejoin her family as a confirmed soltera, a spinster. She had chosen that day to tell the doña about her plan, so she was surprised when Don Guillermo touched her arm.

  “Señorita,” he said.

  She gasped. “Oh, señor, you startled me.”

  “Forgive me, but I must speak with you about our betrothal.” He folded his hands behind his back. “I have contacted territorial officials in Santa Fe regarding your family’s stolen land titles. It should be little trouble to restore them.”

  “But my family was told the thief had started transferal proceedings. How have you settled it so easily?”

  “I have connections, cariña.” He gave her a small smile. “I have found it agreeable that we should wed. The ceremony will take place at the end of three weeks.”

  “Three weeks!”

  “Have no concern, Isobel. I have arranged everything. The food, the entertainment, your gown, the church. The first banns were published in this morning’s newspaper. You and my mother, I am certain, will peruse the announcement at your leisure.”

  “But what about my family? My mother?”

  “I have written to confirm the details,” he continued. “My mother is amenable to the union, as are my brothers.”

  “And what about me?” Isobel said. “Did you ask for my consent, Don Guillermo?”

  “You gave your consent five years ago when you agreed to the betrothal. You confirmed it the day you walked through my door.”

  Isobel looked away. “Five years was a long time ago. I admit, I have come to care for your mother and your family. Once, becoming your bride was the summit of my aspirations. But, since coming here, I have had time to consider my future. I intend to return to Spain.”

  “Spain? Certainly not! I won’t allow it. Our families signed a betrothal agreement. I have begun proceedings of land transfer from your name to mine. The wedding is arranged, señorita, and you will marry me.”

  “That’s not much of a proposal, Pascal.”

  The deep voice from behind a boxwood hedge startled Isobel.

  “Noah?” She caught her breath as the cowboy rounded the hedge.

  “Don’t draw your gun, señor.” Noah leveled his own six-shooter at the Spaniard.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Don Guillermo demanded.

  “I’ve come for Isobel.”

  “Señorita Matas is my betrothed. She will go nowhere.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but Isobel is my wife. Mrs. Buchanan, to you. I married her the day we met—February eighteenth, 1878, three months ago.”

  Guillermo turned on Isobel. “Perhaps you can explain what this man is—”

  “I’ve come for you, Isobel,” Noah cut in. “We’ve got urgent business in Lincoln County.”

  Isobel could hardly speak in the presence of this man she had believed she would never see again. “What happened?” she managed.

  “Seems like snakes are always after you, sweetheart.”

  Speaking to Isobel, Noah holstered his gun, but his blue eyes never left Guillermo’s face. “Tom Catron—one of the territory’s biggest snakes himself—let slip a little fact the other day while we were chatting. Seems his district attorney’s office has been working on behalf of the Pascal family to secure a packet of stolen land-grant titles from a fellow named Jim Jackson.”

  “Snake?” Isobel’s eyes darted to Don Guillermo.

  “A couple of years back,” Noah explained, “Snake Jackson went to Jimmie Dolan and told him he had the Matas family’s Spanish land-grant titles. Dolan took the matter to his pal Catron in Santa Fe. Catron approached the Pascals to see if things could be done under the table in a way that could benefit everyone. Don Guillermo could buy off Catron, Dolan and Snake, get the land he wanted and never have to get hitched to a spinster. I’m told he’s been known to enjoy the company of many women.”

  “But I came to New Mexico and upset your plans,” Isobel said to Guillermo. “Then you decided you liked me well enough, after all.”

  Noah grunted. “Pascal realized he could marry you, get the titles legally and cut the other men out of the deal. With his connections inside the ring, he knew he wouldn’t have much trouble.”

  “The ring?” Doña María’s voice was shrill across the garden. “What ring is that?”

  “It’s nothing, mamá.” Don Guillermo held out a hand to keep his mother back. “A little business between Señor Buchanan and myself.”

  “Business?” Embroidery bag in one hand and newspapers in the other, the doña elbowed past her son to face Noah. “Speak frankly, señor. I’ve heard many rumors about this ring. What do you know?”

  “Your son is a member of the Santa Fe Ring, doña,” Noah said. “He’s in with Governor Axtell, Tom Catron and the other scalawags trying to own New Mexico. Guillermo has doubled the Pascal family land holdings since your husband’s death, ma’am. These days, nobody gets land in the territory so easily without connections.”

  Isobel glared at Guillermo as she recalled his words to her minutes before, I have connections, cariña.

  The doña’s eyes narrowed at Noah. “You accuse my son of illegal dealings, vaquero.”

  “He’s a liar, mamá,” Guillermo interjected. “The fool even claims to have married Señorita Matas!”

  Doña María turned to
Isobel. “Who is this man?”

  Isobel knew she could deny everything Noah had said. She could marry Don Guillermo and have her hacienda, horses, gardens, fiestas. Her children would be of pure Spanish blood, a proud dynasty.

  Then she looked into the cowboy’s blue eyes.

  “Noah Buchanan speaks the truth,” she admitted softly. “He is my husband. For my protection, we wed in haste. I came here planning to marry your son, but now I understand who he really is. I shall return to Spain.”

  “But the wedding? And my grandchildren? And what about our newspapers, mija?”

  “You have been good to me, Doña María,” Isobel said, kissing her gently on each cheek. “I thank you.”

  Her heart lighter than it had been in many weeks, Isobel lifted her skirts and started for the stables. It seemed that God had heard her prayers and chosen to smile upon her after all.

  “I made appointments with Governor Axtell and District Attorney Catron,” Noah was saying as he and Isobel sat on a blanket beside a flickering campfire. “Then I took a room at a hotel and began to write.”

  “Another story?”

  “An argument against James J. Dolan.” Noah paused for a moment, recalling how with each stroke of his pen he had tried to force his longing for Isobel deep inside his heart—with the hope it would stay hidden forever.

  “I kept after Catron every day,” he continued, “until he agreed to look into Dolan’s finances. The more he dug, the more he saw the extent of Dolan’s business troubles.”

  Isobel shook her head. “One man betrayed so many.”

  “Turns out Catron was endorsing Dolan’s notes to the tune of more than twenty thousand dollars. Now Dolan is deeply in debt to the district attorney. A few months back, he mortgaged all his property to Catron as security for the notes, and he got a new note for twenty-five thousand dollars. This month he took out a second mortgage.”

  “So Dolan’s mercantile is bankrupt?” Isobel said. “The man is ruined?”

  “Catron was trying to keep him afloat so he wouldn’t be saddled with the debts. But Dolan shut down his store, and he’s been barred from making deliveries of flour and beef to the Mescalero agency. I reckon if he leaves Lincoln County, broke and defeated, I’ll feel like Dick’s death has been avenged.”

  “I’m happy for you, Noah.”

  He shrugged, realizing nothing could fill the place Dick Brewer had held in his life.

  “I read that Macnab was killed,” she spoke up.

  “Yeah, sad to say. I’m hoping Dolan’s bunch will disband and things will settle down in Lincoln. It’s what I was trying to accomplish all the time I was in Santa Fe.”

  “It seems you were successful.”

  “I nearly let you marry Pascal.” Noah flipped a twig into the fire. “When I read the wedding announcement in the paper this morning, I couldn’t sit still. I’d already found out enough about Pascal to hook him into the ring. I deduced he was the silent partner Catron said was planning to take your land grants. ’Course, I didn’t know for sure till I bluffed him this morning.”

  “That was a bluff?”

  Noah shrugged. “A good guess.”

  “Noah, why didn’t you leave me with the Pascals?”

  He stared at the fire awhile before answering. “I couldn’t let you marry Pascal, Isobel. You deserve better.”

  “What sort of man do I deserve, Noah?”

  “Maybe you’ll find a decent fellow when you get back to Spain.”

  “In Spain I will be a soltera, a spinster. When people learn I broke the Pascal betrothal, my name will be dishonored. Don Guillermo will spread the story of my rash marriage to a common vaquero. Even with an annulment, I will be too old to marry.”

  Noah couldn’t imagine any man in his right mind turning Isobel down. Not one thing about her failed to move him. Her hair lying dark gold on her shoulders. Her smooth neck. Long arms. Long legs.

  But there was more to Isobel than beauty. He’d almost forgotten how easily they could talk. She made him laugh and think and create and dream. He loved everything about the woman.

  But how did she feel about him? He had given her no promises, no tender words of commitment, no hope for a future with him. Then he had abandoned her to the Pascals.

  She might not want to spend her life with a man who still felt his friend’s death like a knife in his gut. If Dolan somehow rode out his troubles, Noah couldn’t let the matter go. Nothing would change that.

  “Now that your venganza against Jimmie Dolan is accomplished, how will it be between you and me, Noah?” Isobel asked in a soft voice. “Will it be as before—at home by the Rio Pecos? Or will you drive me away again?”

  “Isobel…” It was more a sigh than a word. “Great stars, you make things hard on a man.”

  “And you make things hard on a woman.”

  Their eyes met and held. “What do you want?” he asked. “Do you want to try to get your titles from Snake before Pascal gets his hands on them? Do you want to own your own spread up here in the north? Do you want to go back to Spain and live a quiet life, away from all the guns and killing?”

  When she didn’t answer, he spoke the final option. “Or do you want to be hooked up with a dusty cowboy who can’t even promise you a tomorrow?”

  Isobel gazed at the fire. “I may never live happily ever after. But I want to live happily today.”

  “Come here, Isobel.” He took her hand and drew her into his arms. “You know, I made a fine show of myself in Santa Fe. Bought some fancy duds, ate good food, slept on clean sheets. Every day I worked to whittle Jimmie Dolan’s empire into pieces.”

  “Were you happy?”

  “I was miserable. Walked around looking like a throw-out from a footsore remuda.” He shook his head. “I thought revenge would feel good.”

  “But you taught me how foolish it was to try to steal vengeance from the hand of God. I gave up my quest just as you began your own.”

  “We’ve taught each other an awful lot.” He slid one hand up her arm. He hadn’t touched a woman since leaving her with Pascal. All his desires seemed dead—killed along with Dick Brewer.

  Sure, women had made eyes at him in Santa Fe. But he loved Isobel. Only Isobel.

  Now, holding her, he felt a rush of need stronger than he’d ever known. Something inside his soul longed to connect with hers. A spiritual ache had resurfaced the moment he had seen her that morning, standing in the garden in Santa Fe.

  “Noah,” she murmured as she snuggled against him. “I couldn’t let Guillermo Pascal come near me. It was impossible for me to think of any man but you.”

  “The minute I saw your name on that wedding announcement, I grabbed my saddlebag. Didn’t give it a second thought. Just got on my horse and headed out to fetch you. I had to have you with me again.”

  “I don’t know how I once thought of you as a common man. Each day I was alone, I ached for you.”

  “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her lips, slipping his fingers into her hair. This was the union, the bonding, the oneness he needed.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered against his ear.

  “I’ll stay with you, Isobel. Rain or shine, darlin’, you’re mine.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  On the journey from Santa Fe to Lincoln, Noah’s desire to write came back in a flood. He spent two nights guarding Isobel and roughing out a story on paper he had tucked into his saddlebag. A young orphan boy, a hungry wolf, marauding Apaches, twists and turns. When he read it to Isobel, she declared it even better than his Coyote Canyon tale.

  Their final day’s ride took them to the little town of White Oaks. While Noah tended the horses, Isobel stopped at the mercantile, where she hoped to learn news of Lincoln from the shopkeeper. She was looking at a length of yellow calico when Noah stepped into the store.

  “Isobel, come with me. Now.” Taking her arm, he ushered her quickly to the back door.

  “Noah? What’s wrong?”

  “I
spotted Dolan at the feed store,” he explained as they mounted their horses. “He’s back in Lincoln County. And he’s brought the Kinney Gang with him. Follow me—and stay close.”

  When they were safely into a thicket of aspen trees, Noah pulled his horse to a halt. Isobel drew up beside him.

  “Who’s Kinney?” she asked.

  “Cattle thief, murderer, robber. Roams the Rio Grande Valley—mostly around El Paso. John Kinney is ten times meaner than Jesse Evans or Snake Jackson. Looks like Dolan hired the Kinney Gang to do his dirty work.”

  Her heart faltering, Isobel lifted up a silent prayer for guidance. Did Dolan’s return mean that Noah’s efforts to ruin him had failed? Would the man she loved set her aside again in his pursuit of vengeance?

  “Let’s go back to Santa Fe, Noah,” she begged. “We should stay out of the trouble this time.”

  He took off his hat and wiped his sleeve across his brow. “I have to get to Lincoln and warn McSween. With Peppin as sheriff, Dolan back in town and the Kinney bunch roaming the county, things could get bad for the Regulators.”

  He slapped his hat against his thigh. “Blast this whole ugly mess!”

  Isobel’s shoulders drooped as her dreams sifted away. Noah was staring up through the trees at a patch of sky, as if waiting for God to speak. Finally he put on his hat and turned to her. “I’ll take you to Chisum’s ranch. It’s the safest place I know.”

  “But you won’t have time to warn McSween. Noah, I’ll go with you.”

  “No. I’m not going to lose you, Isobel. Not again.”

  “Don’t tear us apart. Please, Noah.” She caught his hand. “The safest place for me is at your side.”

  He shook his head. “All right, I’ll take you to Lincoln. But, darlin’, I’m afraid things are shot to pieces again.”

  “We’re together, aren’t we?” she said, forcing a smile. “How bad can it be?”

  Warned by Noah and Isobel, the Regulators rode out of town, shattering Lincoln’s newfound serenity with the thunder of horses’ hooves. Minutes later, the Kinney Gang rode in.