Winning the Widow's Heart

by Sherri Shackelford

  Relief weakened his knees. For a moment he’d thought he lost her again. Elizabeth wouldn’t leave her daughter behind. “Where is Mrs. Cole?”

  Helen adjusted Rachel’s eyelet-lace bonnet and grimaced at the baby’s rag doll. “She was getting her trunk. I think she changed her mind about leaving.”

  His heart hammered in his chest. She was coming back to me. Once he’d discovered her gone, he’d raced to the station. He’d thought he was too late, until he saw the train chugging to a halt.

  “Are you Jack Elder?”

  Startled, he spun toward a lanky uniformed rail worker.

  “I’m the train detective,” the man said. “One of the coal boys thinks he saw that fellow you were looking for. Pencil Pete. Says he saw someone hanging out on the platform earlier this morning.”

  His worst fears realized, Jack drew his gun. “This train doesn’t move until I say so. Not one inch. Understand?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  Jack raced down the narrow aisle beneath the curious stares of the remaining passengers. Ripping open the door, he planted his feet on the metal stairs. Two pair of footprints marred the otherwise-pristine snow near the tracks.

  He leaped to the ground just right of the footprints, careful to avoid marring the trail. The evidence indicated a small woman, and a much larger man.

  Elizabeth had plunged right into Pencil Pete’s hands.

  Hushed voices sounded ahead of him. Jack flattened his back against the railcar.

  “I don’t have the m-m-money anymore.”

  Elizabeth’s frightened voice tugged at Jack’s heart. He tightened his grip around the gun stock. Charging into the situation with his guns drawn guaranteed certain disaster. No matter the personal cost, he had to remain detached. Sensible.

  “The Ranger already found it,” she continued. “He moved it all into town.”

  “I don’t think so, missy,” Pencil Pete grumbled. “I been following you, and I been following that Ranger. I seen him put the boxes in the wagon. You two were planning on double-crossing old Willy boy all along, weren’t you? Did you kill him yourself, or did the Ranger shoot him so he could have Willy’s bride…and the money?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  Her voice trembled so violently Jack had difficulty discerning the words. He clenched his jaw.

  Pencil Pete guffawed. “I mighta believed you ’cept I also saw the sheriff in town. He was drinking over at the saloon. Drinking so much, he even talked about a pretty little widow living over by Hackberry Creek. That old sheriff jawed for hours, but he didn’t say nothin’ about a Ranger finding a stash of loot. So I asks myself, why didn’t the Ranger turn over the money to the sheriff? Then I remembered the way that Ranger looks at you.”

  Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d avoided telling the sheriff about his findings to prevent gossip. Looked like his plan had backfired.

  He crouched. Under the railcar, he watched the scuffle of feet.

  Pencil Pete shoved Elizabeth ahead of him. “Go on. I know the money is in the baggage car. I saw you loading something into a big crate.”

  Pencil Pete dragged Elizabeth toward the back of the train. Jack slid between the cars. He pointed his gun at the sky, his thumb positioned over the hammer. All the money was sitting in the bank vault in town. That outlaw was going to be mighty angry when he discovered a crib.

  His mind racing, Jack stalked them to the baggage car. He leaned in, straining to hear their conversation.

  “It’s in here,” Elizabeth said.

  Pencil Pete tossed her into the baggage car. “Your husband always wanted the money. He sure did like his fancy things. Once Slim Joe shot that woman, though, Willy didn’t want any part of the gang. Got yellow on us, he did.”

  Jack peered through the door. His back turned, Pencil Pete knelt before the crate containing the crib Jack had built for Rachel.

  “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, now would you?” The outlaw snickered. “Let’s open this up and check.”

  Unable to wait any longer, Jack surged into the crowded space, his pistol arm outstretched. “Not another move.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Pencil Pete drawled, his left arm rising into the air. “If I moved, my hand might slip. I wouldn’t want to blow this little lady’s head off, now would I?”

  Jack stilled. The outlaw’s right hand remained out of view. Elizabeth gave a subtle nod of her head.

  Pencil Pete held a gun on her. He cautiously rose to his feet. “We’ve got ourselves a real live stand-off here. First thing we gotta do is make sure this box is the right one. You wouldn’t double-cross me now, would you pretty lady?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Of c-course not. I’ll sh-show you. Hand me the pry bar and I’ll open it up.”

  Pencil Pete tipped to the side and grabbed the metal bar, keeping it just out of Elizabeth’s reach. “You wouldn’t be thinking about hitting me with this would you? Because if you get any funny ideas, I’ll blow your head off. Then I’ll take care of your man.”

  Elizabeth blanched. “N-no.”

  She accepted the crowbar with shaking hands. Jack appealed to her with his eyes to defy Pencil Pete’s orders, but she ignored his silent urging and knelt before the crate. Time slowed as she pried open the cover and stuck her hand through the narrow opening. Sweat beaded on Jack’s forehead. A moment later she removed a large stack of bills.

  “See,” she said. “It’s all in here.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d revealed the wad of cash he’d refused to take from her earlier.

  Elizabeth leveled her gaze at him. Jack winked at her clever ruse.

  “Put it back.” Pencil Pete licked his lips. “Now, then—”

  A commotion sounded behind Jack.

  “I’m the train detective,” a man called. “What’s going on here—”

  His words choked off as Pencil Pete aimed his gun at Elizabeth’s head.

  “Well, looky here.” The outlaw faced them, grinning as if the whole situation was some sort of lark. “We got ourselves a party. Lay your guns on the floor, boys, and kick them toward me.”

  Jack bit off a muffled curse. The train detective flashed him an apologetic grimace. Together the two men scooted their guns across the narrow space between piles of mail bags.

  The outlaw crouched and stuffed the weapons into his pocket. “You’re just what I need, detective man. You and that Ranger are going to drag this box off the train. Then you’re going to board and be on your way. I’ll keep the lady with me. Just in case you get any ideas.”

  Jack ground his teeth together. “I’ll kill you before I let you hurt her.”

  “Ain’t that romantic? Don’t you worry. I’ll leave her safe and sound in Cimarron.” Pencil Pete leered at Elizabeth. “If he’s willing to take you without the money, he might even come back for ya.”

  Jack didn’t believe the outlaw for a second. Once he and the detective reboarded the train, Elizabeth was dead.

  The outlaw swiped at his nose with his filthy sleeve. “Get moving, boys.”

  Jack eyed the ashen face of the train detective. “Listen to the man. Let’s get this over with.”

  The outlaw kicked the crowbar to one side. “Wouldn’t want the two of you to get any ideas.”

  Since the stolen money would weigh more than a crib, Jack made a show straining as he lifted the crate. The train detective frowned before reluctantly following suit.

  “You’re gonna let Bud Shaw hang.” Jack feigned a weighty groan. “Even though he had nothing to do with the robberies.”

  “I sure am.” Pencil Pete cackled gleefully. “That Will Cole was smart. He had a cousin with a record of cattle rustling. Willy used his name and h
id some money on the fellow’s property. We counted on Bud getting caught all along. If any of us got captured, Will was free to break us out of jail. Then we’d all split the money hidden on his spread and let Bud hang. Not like he could identify any of us, since he wasn’t even part of the gang.”

  Pencil Pete shook his head forlornly. “Except Willy didn’t come back like he was supposed to. I had to break out myself. Now I’m the only one left, and all the money belongs to me.”

  Jack and the detective strained to the door. Pencil Pete pushed Elizabeth ahead of him. She tumbled to her knees. Impotent rage surged through Jack’s blood. As the outlaw jerked her upright, she threw him a weak, encouraging smile that did nothing to alleviate his fears.

  Jack jumped to the ground, then waited for the detective to join him. Together they yanked the crate over the edge into a snow drift. As he backed away, Jack sized up the situation. The outlaw kept the gun aimed at Elizabeth’s head, his arm wrapped around her body. Something glinted at her side. She pointedly glanced down. Jack followed her gaze. She held the crowbar hidden in the folds of her skirts.

  Pencil Pete shoved her from the baggage car. She floundered in the snow, struggling to rise to her feet and still keep the weapon hidden. The outlaw lumbered after her, his gun arm never wavering.

  Jack kept his gaze locked on Elizabeth. She winked at him.

  The outlaw snatched the back of her collar, hauling her upright. Jack lunged forward. Elizabeth twisted around, the crowbar arcing through the air. The blow glanced off Pencil Pete’s arm. The outlaw howled. A wild shot split the air.

  “Run,” Jack yelled.

  Elizabeth struggled to her feet.

  Pencil Pete spun, aiming his gun at Jack’s advancing form. Elizabeth clutched the outlaw’s arm, hindering his aim. Pencil Pete backhanded her. Her limp body crumpled onto the snow.

  Jack heaved toward the outlaw. Another shot exploded. Jack slammed the man into the ground. They scuffled, rolling in the snow. Pencil Pete was strong, but he didn’t have the added power of Jack’s rage. He threw the man onto his back and slammed his knee into the outlaw’s chest, winding him. Circling the outlaw’s wrist in a fierce grip, Jack pounded Pencil Pete’s hand against the crate until the weapon sprang loose.

  From the corner of his eye, he watched the detective scurry for the gun. Jack rolled away to give the guard a clear shot. Still dazed from the scuffle with Pencil Pete, he crawled toward Elizabeth’s sickeningly still form.

  Behind him, the outlaw flailed.

  “I ain’t going to jail again,” Pencil Pete growled.

  Another gunshot exploded. A grunt of pain preceded an ominous silence. Jack didn’t need to turn around to know the outlaw had just met his maker.

  He cradled Elizabeth’s still form in his arms and tugged her bonnet strings loose. “Wake up, Elizabeth. Please, God, be all right.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Don’t you yell at me. I just saved your life.”

  “I know you did.” Tears of relief filled his eyes. He laughed and cried and hugged her in arms. “You risked your life to save me, fool woman.”

  “You saved me first. I guess we’re both fools.”

  Jack gathered snow in his handkerchief and pressed the ball against the blood streaming from Elizabeth’s forehead. “You lied to me, Elizabeth Cole. You know I don’t abide liars.”

  She touched his cheek with her bandaged hand. “I love you, Jack Elder. That’s the truth. If you’re willing to marry an outlaw’s widow, I’m willing to be a lawman’s bride.”

  “Then I guess we’re getting hitched.”

  “What about Bud Shaw?”

  “We’ll go back to Texas together.”

  “But what about your family?” Her expression dimmed. “I’ll always remind them of what happened.”

  “You were a victim, just like Doreen. You have to give my family the credit for knowing that.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “If your brothers are anything like you, I won’t worry.”

  “You gotta stop crying, or your face will freeze in this cold.”

  Elizabeth giggled.

  Jack brushed the matted hair from her forehead, relieved to find the bleeding had slowed. “Why’d you put the money in the crib?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “You’ve got the rest of your life to tell me.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth tipped up at the corner. “You’d marry me still? Even though I hurt you so much?”

  His heart pounded in his chest. “I’m awfully pigheaded not to have understood what you were saying. You thought by leaving, you were being noble and doing what was best for me. That’s why you didn’t pray for us to be together.” Warmth flowed through his veins. “I love you. Don’t you know you’re the best thing for me?”

  Blushing color livened her face. “I love you, too.”

  “I’m not like that fellow in the book, Mr. Darcy. I’m not one for fancy words or flowery speeches. But I can do some of the things he did, I can make things right for you. I can take care of you.”

  “You already have. I think I loved you from that first night. When you said—” she lowered her voice to a gruff impersonation of him “—Lady, you got a heap o’ trouble, but I ain’t part of it.”

  Jack grinned. “I kept wishing you were a big ugly outlaw with a pair of six shooters.”

  “And I kept wishing you were a tiny little midwife.”

  His heart thumping in his chest, Jack held her close. “I’m glad we didn’t get what we wished for. Now will you marry me?”

  “God gave me exactly what I prayed for. Not the way I planned, or the way I thought I wanted, but he gave me what I needed just the same. He gave me Rachel. And you. He gave me a family.”

  Drawn by the commotion, passengers streamed from the rail cars. The guard tossed his coat over Pencil Pete’s body, shielding the gruesome sight from gawkers. Jack lifted Elizabeth into his arms.

  Helen’s husband rushed to meet them. “Is she all right? What happened? We heard shots. Is everything okay?”

  Jack pressed a kiss to Elizabeth’s lips. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “Yep,” Elizabeth replied, love shimmering in her pale blue eyes. “Couldn’t be better.”

  Epilogue

  “You look so beautiful.” Jo stepped back and sighed.

  Elizabeth stood in the kaleidoscope of light shining through the stained-glass church windows. “I can’t believe I missed Christmas.”

  Jo had even worn a dress for the ceremony, albeit reluctantly. “You missed Christmas by a long shot.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I’ve been busy this winter.”

  She and Jo had braided her hair and woven the thick ropes into a knot at the nape of her neck. An artfully arranged lace veil with a sprig of evergreen covered the bruise on her forehead.

  Elizabeth patted her temple. “It was so nice of Mr. Peters to open up the mercantile.”

  “He’s an a—”

  “Jo,” Elizabeth shook her finger in a warning. “I know he hasn’t always been kind to me. But he made a special trip to the boarding house to let me know he had a dress fit for a wedding. He even found a new sack coat for Jack.”

  Elizabeth smoothed the satin fabric at her waist. The dress had only needed a few minor alterations. The two-piece ensemble had been ordered a year before, but never claimed. Packed away in the storeroom, the white fabric had aged to a delicate ivory. A fitted jacket nipped in at her waist, and three-quarter-length sleeves ended in a fall of lace. Additional lace edged the beaded, scoop-neck collar. Kid-leather boots peeked out from beneath the sweep of her ivory skirts. A modest bustle adorned the back, trailing the barest hint of a waterfall train.

  Jo held out something in her hand. “The
re’s no hothouse in Cimarron Springs, so I made you this.”

  A length of blush-pink ribbon had been wrapped around the base of a posy of pink fabric roses. The fluted ends dangled a foot below the tiny bouquet.

  Elizabeth accepted the lovely present. “They’re absolutely beautiful.”

  “Go on with you,” Jo ordered. “I’m sure that Ranger is getting impatient.”

  Ely stepped forward and offered his elbow to escort her down the aisle. He wore his best Sunday suit, a dark wool coat over neatly pressed trousers. Even his beard and mustache had been trimmed for the occasion.

  He enveloped her in a rib-crushing bear hug. “We all love you, lass. Are you sure you want to move all the way to Texas?”

  Elizabeth glanced up the aisle to where Jack waited before the altar, resplendent in his new charcoal-gray suit. “My family is there. According to Jack, there’s going to be a new sheriff in town.”

  Ely wiped a tear from his eye with a loud sniffle. “You keep in touch, you hear?”

  “I will.”

  They made their way down the aisle past a smattering of well-wishers. The Smiths had offered to hold Rachel during the ceremony. The infant wore her best pink dress and crocheted booties. A white eyelet-lace bonnet framed her cherubic face. Elizabeth paused long enough to run the back of her fingers along the baby’s downy cheek.

  Jo had scurried back to her seat, taking her place beside her mother. The four McCoy boys sat stiff in their seats, tallest to shortest. The youngest swung his feet and sucked on his thumb.

  When they reached the altar, Ely nodded and Elizabeth placed her hand in the crook of Jack’s arm. Tall and handsome, his hazel eyes twinkled with joy. His new jacket stretched across his broad shoulders and his dark hair waved back from his forehead. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

  Her heart swelled so large, she feared it would burst from her chest in a shower of light. “I love you, Jack Elder.”

  “I love you more.”

  She grinned. “You better.”

  With a roll of his eyes, the minister cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”