by Jodi Thomas
Michael felt sorry for them. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “There’s not going to be a hanging. I’m getting married and everything will be fine.”
Uncle Joseph wrinkled up his face. “You stealing a bride? That ain’t right, Mickey boy. It just ain’t right.”
Michael laughed. He’d finally found something Joseph wouldn’t steal.
Chapter 3
“Do you wish to marry this woman of your own free will?” the priest asked.
Michael hesitated, knowing that if they went through with this ceremony, at least one man, her uncle, would want him dead.
The priest huffed with impatience. “Sir, you have already touched this woman?”
“Yes.” Michael couldn’t lie there. He could still feel the softness of her skin on his fingers. He had touched her, if not in the way the priest was hinting.
“Then in the eyes of the church you are already married.”
Michael felt like he was whirling in a storm. Cozette stood close, holding his arm as if she needed support. His uncle Moses started crying and mumbling something about never seeing a wedding up close. The priest glared at him as if he were dirt-rolled evil, which only made Moses cry harder.
All in all, the wedding was worse than first light after a three-day drunk.
They both said what the priest told them to say and did everything he told them to do. When he finished, he looked at Michael and said simply, “You may kiss your bride.”
Michael stared down at her and realized she looked as miserable as he felt. Somehow he found that one fact calming. Touching her chin lightly with his fingertips, he tilted her head and brushed her lips with his own.
She tasted newborn and fresh, nothing like the few saloon girls he’d kissed.
Her lip quivered slightly and he knew this lady might have known a man, but she’d never been loved. She’d never been kissed with tenderness. Deep down, he understood something she might never tell him.
“It’s going to be all right, Cozette,” he whispered to her. It was the first time he’d said her name and he wished he could believe his own words. “We’ll get through this and you will be safe. I swear it.”
Her eyes rounded and part of the fear he’d seen there vanished. To his surprise, she believed him.
This time she took his hand and asked, “Will you go with me to my father’s bedside? I’d like him to meet you when he wakes.”
Michael nodded once and opened the mission door for her. They stepped out into a crowd of men, all with guns raised at him.
The priest hurried out. “Do not worry!” he shouted. “All is well. They are married. This is the man our Cozette picked as her mate.”
For a moment, Michael feared those would be the last words he’d hear on earth. None of the cowhands looked like they’d be bothered if his new bride ordered him shot.
Then, surprisingly, the cowboys lowered their weapons and stepped forward to shake his hand.
Cozette’s laughter came too loud to sound real. “I know everyone expected us to wait until morning, but I wanted my father to meet Michael as my husband.” She waved her hand across the crowd. “I know my uncle plans a wedding breakfast and I’d like you all to wash up and join us at first light.”
The wranglers gave a hoot and started toward the bunkhouse.
Michael noticed his three uncles slowly backing into the shadows. “That means you three also.” His words froze them in midflight. You’ll be joining us for breakfast and you’ll behave yourselves.”
“There’s a well behind the house where you can clean up if you like,” Cozette added without venturing any closer to the three outlaws. “I’ll have towels and soap set out.”
“W-what’s going on here?” Uncle Joseph stuttered out his demand. “This don’t seem right. W-we ain’t never been invited to w-wash or eat nowhere in our lives.”
“It’s right.” Michael knew he couldn’t trust them with the details of the marriage. A few drinks and all three would be telling everything they knew about how their nephew found a bride in the middle of a robbery.
While they watched, he kissed Cozette’s cheek and motioned for her to go ahead into the front door of the big house. “I’ll be with you in a moment, dear.”
She glanced at the uncles and broke into a run. Michael had no idea if she feared them or simply got downwind of them.
Once she was out of sight, he turned to his kin. “I need you all. I can only trust family in this matter of life and death.”
“W-what can w-we do, get horses, find guns?” Joseph asked. “I’ll steal a few. It was just pure luck they caught us the first time. W-we can grab a few bags and be long gone before they notice.”
“No.” Michael shook his head. Flight seemed always their first thought. “I need the three of you to stay close and keep your eyes open. There are men here who didn’t want us to marry. They might mean my new bride harm. I don’t want them getting close to Cozette.”
“Who’s Cozette?” Abe asked.
Michael fought the urge to thump him hard. “My new wife, remember, the woman I just married. The one who told you to wash.”
“Oh,” he said. “The one in white. I remember now. You called her dear. I never knew you had a dear one, Mickey boy.”
“Yes, and we’ve got to protect her”—Michael stared at them—“with your lives if necessary.”
They looked at one another as if he were speaking a language they didn’t quite understand. “We’re bodyguards?” Moses whispered.
“Yeah, you’ve been promoted from outlaws.” Michael hated to admit it but he did need them. He had no idea what he was stepping into, but it had to be bad if she was willing to die to get away. It offered him no comfort that he was her second choice tonight.
“Now there are three rules you’ve got to remember. Listen close. One, no drinking. Two, no stealing. You can eat all you want, but rule number three is that one of you is to be armed and standing near my dear wife at all times. I don’t want anyone, and I mean anyone, laying a hand on her. She’s in danger.”
Abe scratched his bald head. “Mind my asking where you got this pretty little wife? You never mentioned her.”
Michael said the first thing that came to mind. “We met in church. I didn’t know she cared about me, but when she mentioned marriage, I thought it was a good idea.”
They all nodded as if he’d explained. Michael had the feeling if any woman had ever mentioned marriage to any one of them she would have been forced to take all three. They came as a set.
“Now, clean up and wait for me inside.” He smiled as they hurried around the house, heads down. The food might sound good, but washing had always been treated like a disease.
Michael didn’t know what he expected to see when he walked into the main house on the ranch, but a mansion wasn’t it. The place shone grander than the hotels he’d seen in Fort Worth and Austin. It had a long staircase and candles everywhere on tall gold candlesticks.
He straightened, feeling out of place. No way did he belong here. How could he hope to pull this off? He knew nothing about ranching and even less about women.
Cozette waited at the bottom of the stairs talking to an old woman who looked like she might be the housekeeper. He just stood watching Cozette and wondering how he could even be allowed on the same planet with such a creature.
When she noticed him, she moved away from the old woman and walked toward him, her hand out.
“We need to see my father, but the doctor is with him now.” Her fingers closed around his. “Maybe we can talk while we wait.”
He let her lead him to a long bench outside two massive doors. All his life everywhere he’d been had been small: his uncles’ small cabin, the jail cells, the one-room school. For the first time ever, indoors he felt like he could stand tall and breathe without using up too much air.
She sat next to him, almost touching. “We need to get things clear between us. I’m aware that I may have tricked you into this but I want to
be fair now. You’ve done no less than save my life.”
He nodded, aware that she was leaning into him. “It seemed the only way out for us both.” He didn’t bother to add that she hadn’t given him much choice in the matter.
She nodded her agreement, then whispered, “My father has consumption. His lungs are filling with blood, so we can’t stay long. Only a minute. Last year he moved into his study because the stairs got too much for him.” She looked down at Michael’s fingers, still laced in hers. “I’m not close to him. When I was little, he was never around. I thought he hated me. I wasn’t much of a consideration in his world.”
Michael found it hard to believe she wouldn’t be loved. She was rich. She had a grand home. Hell, she even had him for the asking.
She continued, “My mother was French and never really fit in here in Texas. I guess he thought I never would either, because most of the time I was home from school he managed to be somewhere else. When my mother died, it was like he wished I’d disappear. I remember one Christmas at the school he sent me to, he forgot to send someone after me. I ate Christmas dinner with the sisters and, of course, there were no presents allowed.”
He closed his hand around hers. He’d never received one gift for birthday or Christmas, but he found himself feeling sorry for her. Little angels in white should have presents to open.
She met his gaze. “Promise me, for the time we’re pretending, you’ll never be cruel to me.”
“I promise,” he said, “only we’re not pretending. We are married. I’ll try to be a good husband, and when I leave, you’ll have this place for you and your baby if one grows inside you.”
One tear drifted down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll owe you a great debt. Is there nothing you ask?”
He closed his eyes and leaned the back of his head against the wall. Finally, he formed the words. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to touch you now and then.” He lifted his hand as if showing her an example. “I mean you no harm, but I’ve never been near anyone so fine.”
She frowned. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No,” he said, surprised.
She pouted, then shrugged. “I’m a fallen woman about to trick my father, who is on his deathbed. I’ve been used and tossed away by one man, which makes me worthless, and I never plan to have another. If all you want to do is hold my hand or brush my cheek, I’d say that’s a fair enough price for risking your life.”
To his surprise, she frowned. “I must tell you, though, I don’t like to be touched. It’s not something I’m used to. My father never touched me. The nuns never touched me, and the one man who did touch me hurt me. You’d probably be doing me a favor, making me a little less jumpy around men. So touch all you like.”
“I’ll not hurt you,” he added, trying to figure out if she truly meant what she said. “And I’ve already touched you, when I started to remove your necklace and again when I put my hand around your neck.”
She smiled. “For a murder attempt, it was rather gentle.”
They both laughed and for the first time he thought this scheme of hers might work. She’d have her land, his uncles would have their loot without fear of jail, and he’d have a memory of a time when he’d been allowed close to perfection.
A few minutes passed before the huge wooden door opened and an old doctor limped out. “You can see him.” He shook his head. “I had to ask twice before he’d agree to see you. He doesn’t seem to want to use up what little energy he has left.”
She stepped past the doctor. Michael followed.
The room was huge and built to impress. Against long windows, a massive desk stood on a platform one step up so that whoever sat behind would be eye level with anyone standing. Books lined the walls into a seating area big enough to hold a full-sized bed. There, a man rested, his dark weathered skin contrasting against the white sheets.
Michael stared at Duke Camanez. Somehow, Michael thought he would have been bigger, but he looked small beneath the covers.
“Father,” Cozette whispered as she stepped closer. “Father. I’ve brought my husband to meet you.”
The dying man’s eyes opened slowly. He looked at his only child with a cold, uncaring gaze. “You look more like your mother every day, child, and are just as worthless, I’m sure.”
Then, without expecting her to respond, he looked at Michael. “So, you married her. She’s no more than a bit of a girl, not strong enough to bear many children, I fear.” Camanez coughed and blood trailed out of the corner of his mouth. “My condolences. She’s made of lies and lace, you know.”
“I know.” Michael smiled as if he thought Duke Camanez was telling a joke. He’d heard of the rancher—everyone within five hundred miles had heard of the man who ruled his ranch like his own private kingdom.
Michael offered his hand and was surprised when the frail man took it.
“You’re a fool who fell for her beauty,” Camanez said in a whisper. “I can’t blame you, son, I once fell myself.” He took time to breathe, then continued, “Keep her pregnant if you can and don’t give in to her tricks. Maybe she’ll give birth to sons who will run this ranch one day. I pray they get your build and not hers.” He coughed, then added as he fought to breathe, “Try not to run the place into the ground before you pass it on to my grandsons.”
Michael had no idea what to say. Camanez’s hand slipped from his as the old man’s body shook from a round of coughing.
A nurse moved from the shadows and put her arm around him as she wiped away blood dripping from his chin.
The doctor mumbled as he pushed them toward the door. “Don’t come back until tonight. I’m giving him enough laudanum to let him rest the day away. I fear you’ve excited him, doing him more harm than good.”
As soon as they were outside the door, Cozette straightened as if she’d been slapped hard and was refusing to cower. “I’ll be right back,” she said and disappeared down a hallway. A moment later he heard her feet tapping up a wooden staircase just out of sight.
He didn’t know if he should follow. Was she upset, hurt, or embarrassed at what her father had said? Or, he reasoned, could it be morning sickness?
Michael returned to the entrance hall, noticing the sunrise shining bright across twenty-foot windows. It crossed his mind that it would take a dozen suns to lighten the sorrow in this house. He’d never considered himself as knowing much about women, but compared to Duke Camanez, he was a knight. If he hadn’t heard the words he never would have believed a father could be so cruel to his only child. Apparently, he saw her as only a means to grandsons. His only chance that his blood would continue to own the ranch he called San Louise.
His uncles stood a foot inside the door looking as out of place as pigs in a parade. To their credit, they had tried to clean up. Their faces and hands were washed and they’d slicked back their dirty hair. He thought of Mrs. Peters back at the school near the prison. She probably would have taken one look at these three and had them planted in the dirt in hopes that whatever sprouted might be cleaner.
He joined them as they surveyed the place.
“We could take a dozen of these candleholders and they’d never miss them,” Joseph whispered.
Michael glared at all three. “Rule two. Don’t take anything,” he said softly and all three nodded.
He watched them move around the room, staring at every piece of furniture or painting as if they were appraising its value. Strangers began to come down the stairs and from the hallway where his part-time wife had disappeared. They hung in small groups like travelers at a train station showing little interest in people around them.
Michael guessed some were employees, some might be relatives, but he had no idea if they were holding a death watch or waiting for a wedding. If he had to define their look, it would be curiosity more than sadness or joy.
Five minutes later, they all turned and watched Cozette slowly come down the steps. The feeling that she was too beautiful to be
real crossed his mind and he considered the possibility that this was all one long dream. When he’d first begun to read, he’d dreamed that the places and people in books were real, but he’d seen no evidence of it until now.
She played a role before him she must have been born to play. She greeted the sleepy guests who were down the stairs and the cowboys stepping inside, their hats in hand, with the same graceful smiles and comments.
Only one, an older man in black, looked like he hadn’t been asleep. He stormed down the stairs glaring at Cozette, then searched the room until his gaze settled on Michael.
Michael knew if looks could kill he’d be dead.
Before being introduced, he had no doubt this was her uncle, Raymond Camanez. The man who would have inherited everything if she hadn’t married.
Raymond said something sharp to her as she made the introduction, then glared at Michael as if he knew something was wrong but couldn’t quite see the flaw. Then, like a storm breaking, his features cleared. Cozette’s uncle Raymond took a step toward Michael, offering his hand.
When Michael took the man’s hand, Raymond pulled him close and whispered, “You’re a walking dead man for tricking me out of this ranch.”
Michael stared as the older man pulled away smiling as if he’d just wished them well.
Cozette had moved away, probably to stay out of reach of her uncle. Michael could find no words to answer the threat, but he planned to keep watch. He might not know much about women, but he’d seen enough evil men to know one on sight.
The priest arrived and offered a blessing to the house. Then women came from the kitchen with huge trays of food. The ranch hands began to take their seats along a dining table long enough to hold two dozen people.
Cozette moved toward Michael. “You’ll sit at the head of the table,” she whispered. “I’ll sit at the other end.”