GUNSMOKE AND LACE

by Linda Broday

  Bonner dropped back onto his bedroll. A glance at the sky revealed the clouds that had formed overhead, blocking the moon. Flakes of snow touched his face.

  * * *

  Snow covered everything when Bonner woke just a little before daybreak. Light from the fire showed only the sleeping little girl. He jerked to his feet. That little rascal. Where was Jonathan? Jezzie rose from her place next to Addie and stretched. The fool dog was supposed to alert him. Hell!

  Bonner moved to the horses, praying the mule would still be there. He caught Jonathan mounting up. “Going somewhere?” Bonner asked quietly.

  The kid turned. “To find Mama.”

  “And leave your little sister behind? I thought your father would’ve taught you better.” Bonner heard doubt creek into Jonathan’s voice for the first time and knew the kid wrestled with that.

  “Figure she’s safe enough. She ain’t got any business where there’s killing.”

  “You mean when you put a bullet into Billy Osage?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can’t let you leave by yourself, son. Climb down and eat something.” Bonner offered a hand. “Family sticks together—through good and bad.”

  With a curt nod, Jonathan walked back to the campfire. While Bonner fixed a bite of breakfast, the boy got Addie up and took her to the bushes. They ate the quick meal in silence. Bonner’s thoughts were on killing Billy Osage, figured the boy’s were too.

  In quick order, Bonner broke down the camp. Little Addie rode in front of Bonner where he held her secure and in front of her was Jezzie. They were moving too fast for the dog to keep up.

  Drifts of heavy snow covered the trail but Bonner needed no sign to lead him to Osage’s hideout. Outlaws were creatures of habit. They went to places they knew best and felt safe—only the man would find no place in Texas safe from him.

  This would be a day of reckoning and the price would be steep.

  Each step their mounts took, Bonner prayed they’d find Mrs. Cutler alive. He couldn’t bear to consider the alternative or what would happen to these children. He cast Jonathan a glance and found the boy staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched. The kid was going to make a heck of a lawman—if he lived long enough.

  Bonner considered it his job to make certain he did.

  They dismounted about five hundred yards from Osage’s shack. They’d leave the animals and he and the boy would go on foot. He crouched down and brushed the hair from Addie’s eyes. “Honey, listen good. You have to stay with Jezzie. She’ll take care of you. Whatever happens, don’t move from here. You understand? All our lives depend on that.”

  “But I wanna come.”

  Jonathan knelt to wipe her nose. “Dang it, Addie. I told you it’s too dangerous. You’ll get mama killed. You cry too much and—” he glanced around. Finally, picking up her doll he thrust it into his sister’s hands. “Take care of Bessie. She needs you. Do not follow me.”

  The boy glanced at Bonner as though seeming to say that he’d do this alone. Tough. He was going whether the kid wanted him there or not.

  Their breath fogged in the air as he and Jonathan crept through the snow-covered brush with guns in hand. Bonner stared at the shack where a thin column of smoke rose from the chimney. He had to see inside. “I’m going to take a look. You stay here and don’t fire that pistol. You do and your mother is dead.”

  If she wasn’t already but Bonner kept that to himself.

  “No, I’m smaller and can hug the ground,” Jonathan insisted.

  The kid had a point. Bonner pinched the bridge of his nose and cussed a silent blue streak. “All right. I’ll provide cover in case you need it. Don’t go off half-cocked on me. Just look and get right back so we can figure out a plan.”

  Jonathan glared. “If Billy has a gun on my mama, I’m shooting.”

  Before Bonner could reason with him, the boy sprinted to a tree. Running from one trunk to the next, Jonathan reached a window of the hideout and peered inside. Bonner would give a year’s reward money to know what the boy saw. Keeping low, the kid moved to a second window and raised for a look. Evidently, satisfied, he ran back to Bonner.

  “Mama’s tied up on a bed an’ Billy Osage’s eatin’ at a table,” Jonathan said. “I’ll bet he didn’t feed her nothing.”

  “Draw out the room in the snow and where she is located.” Bonner prayed she’d be strong enough to walk under her own power. Once the shooting started, he might not have time to do more than untie her.

  He studied the layout Jonathan drew in the snow. “Okay, here’s the plan. When you’re in place at a window, I’ll burst through the front door at a run and catch Osage by surprise. Don’t fire toward your mother. And don’t shoot me.”

  Lord, this was a dumb plan. Maybe the outlaw would be so confused he wouldn’t have time to go for his gun. Bonner only had the kid’s word that he knew how to shoot. A wild bullet could kill him and Mrs. Cutler both. But he didn’t have it in him to tie up the kid. Jonathan Timothy Andrew Cutler burned with a need for justice. He deserved a chance to get it. Bonner would feel the same if he walked in Jonathan’s shoes.

  Once the boy was back at the window and Bonner had positioned himself closer, he took a deep breath. Gripping his Navy Colt, he ran for the door and burst through the rotted wood. A woman’s scream rent the air. Billy Osage jumped to his feet, drawing. Bonner fired, striking the outlaw’s shoulder, spinning him around. Another bullet broke through the window and hit the outlaw square between the eyes. Osage fell like rock. Bonner slid his smoking gun into the holster and went to the children’s mother.

  “Bless you, mister. He meant to kill me. I’ve got to get home to my children.” Her voice was shaky.

  Bonner wiped blood from her face, noticing the bruises. “The kids are here, ma’am. Your son fired the shot that killed Billy Osage.”

  Just then Jonathan ran inside and hugged his mother. Bonner turned to go get Addie, but the little girl met him at the door. So much for staying put.

  “Mama! Mama!” she screamed, rushing past him.

  Jonathan moved to Bonner, his solemn dark eyes revealing the pain of shooting his first man. The boy stuck out his hand.

  Bonner shook it. “Your father would be proud of you, kid. Everything he taught you paid off and you got your mama back just like you said you would. I’m proud of you too. Not many men could’ve tracked Osage and then shot him dead between the eyes.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Raine.”

  “I’ll help you get the body into town but the reward money belongs to you. It’ll help ease your burden for a bit.”

  So much for staying put. Jezzie nuzzled his hand. The dog hadn’t minded either. Bonner shook his head then turned to watch the happy reunion. Everything had turned out.

  His farm slipped from reach—for now. There were plenty more outlaws to bring in. They were like roaches—stomp one and another rose to take his place.

  One day, if the cards played out right, he’d have his dream. Just a matter of time.

  ~Part Two~

  Over the next year, Bonner and Jezzie would swing by to check on Mrs. Cutler and the two kids whenever he found himself in the vicinity. Each time, Rebecca would invite him to sit down to supper and offer some sweet-smelling hay in the barn to bed down on.

  His mind took to wandering there even when he was nowhere close.

  With good reason. Rebecca Cutler was a fine-looking woman with kind ways. She was too young to keep a farm going and raise two children alone.

  The cinnamon sky had begun to darken when he rode up to the farmhouse. Jezzie danced around his paint’s hooves, excited to see her young friend.

  Rebecca hurried out, wiping her hands on her apron, a smile lighting up her face. “I declare, Bonner, I think you smelled my fried chicken.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He eased his weary bones from the saddle. “That would purely be hard to miss. I’ll wash up.”

  “Mr. Bonner! Jezzie!” Addie ran around her mother. “Oh boy!”

&
nbsp; The little girl launched herself into his arms. He nuzzled her neck and hugged her tight, breathing in her innocence. He didn’t want to stain her with the blood on his hands and the things he was forced to do to stay alive but he couldn’t keep from holding her close. He wasn’t that strong.

  “I missed you, girl.”

  “I have a kitty. Wanna see?”

  “I sure do. When I get washed up, you can show me.” He set her down and she hugged Jezzie, burying her face in the soft fur.

  “Addie, I need your help. Let Bonner get the trail dust washed off,” her mother called. Addie scampered to the porch with Jezzie at her side.

  He moved toward the barn with his big paint. “Guess you’ll be wanting your oats,

  Chief.” The brown and white paint snorted and tossed his head.

  “I’ll take him, Bonner,” Jonathan said, taking the reins. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Boy, I think you’ve grown a foot! Pretty soon, you’ll be as tall as me.” Bonner’s gaze swept over the eleven-year-old. The sadness in his dark eyes made him appear a boy in an old man’s body. It made Bonner’s heart ache to watch how quickly he’d had to grow up. For a minute, he wished he could dig up the outlaw Billy Osage and shoot him again. “How’ve things been around here? Any problems?”

  “Naw. Just work.” Jonathan released a heavy sigh. “The roof’s leaking and I need some help with the fence in the north pasture if you’re going to stay a few days.”

  “Yeah. I’ll stay.” Even if he had someplace to be, he wouldn’t. The kid didn’t ask for help often. That meant they were things he couldn’t handle by himself.

  “I hear Mama crying sometimes. She’s real sad.”

  For a minute, Bonner thought he’d imagined the boy’s low words.

  “I wonder if you could talk to her,” Jonathan added, clarifying things in Bonner’s mind.

  “Sure. I’ll do my best to see what’s wrong, but it might be nothing more than missing your papa.” He draped an arm across the boy’s thin shoulders. “You worry too much about grown up things. When was the last time you ever had any fun?”

  “Too much to do. I gotta be the man now.” Jonathan walked on to the barn with Chief.

  Bonner’s gaze followed him for a long moment before he pumped some water from the well and set about the business of making himself presentable at Rebecca’s table. He might be a tad short of flowery language but he did possess manners.

  A fine woman like her needed to be respected.

  After that … how in the hell would he go about talking to her of delicate things?

  * * *

  No question about it, the meal was delicious and the company made all his lonely nights by a campfire seem like purgatory.

  Addie got from her seat and took his hand. “Come see my kitty, Mr. Bonner.”

  She led him to a box in the barn and lifted up a flea-bitten calico that had been nursing on its mama. “Ain’t she purty?”

  “Why she sure is.” He held the kitten against him. “What did you name her?”

  Jonathan stole up behind them. “She tried to name the fur ball Orin after Daddy. Then I explained it was a girl cat and she settled on Alice.”

  “I did not.” Addie pouted and put her hands on her hips.

  “Did too.”

  “That’s enough,” Bonner said quietly. “It doesn’t make a hill of beans.” He handed Addie the kitten. “Put her back with her mama and let’s get you to bed.”

  When Rebecca came from tucking Addie in, Bonner rose from his chair. “It’s a nice night. Let’s stroll over to the corral where we can look at the stars.”

  “That’s sounds real fine, Bonner.” She lifted her coat from a nail and Bonner held it for her.

  Moments later, his boots crunched on the rocky ground of the Texas Hill Country. He placed a hand on the small of her back as they strolled toward the windmill that rose tall in the darkness. Although she was a small woman, she had a spine of pure steel. Women could allow little softness in this wild land or they’d never survive. From what he’d heard, Bonner suspected she was close to reaching her limit. Maybe it was time to speak of things he’d held back.

  “I always love the sound of this old windmill.” Rebecca leaned her head on his shoulder and the vanilla she’d used in making the fresh apple cake she’d served for dessert drifted to his nose.

  “Windmills always take me home.” Bonner frowned. Fool. Couldn’t he think of something better to say? “Growing up, I had one right out my upstairs loft. It sang me to sleep many a night.” He glanced up at it and noticed one of the blades needed tightened. One more chore to add to his list.

  She stared out into the night as though she’d be unable to get the words out if she glanced up at him. “You look real tired, Bonner. Each time you ride out, I worry you won’t come back, that a bullet will find you.” Her voice caught in a strangled sob. “Quit this dangerous job while you still can.”

  He faced her and took her shoulders. “Rebecca, what’s wrong?”

  “Everything. Nothing. I should’ve known Jonathan would hear and tell you.” She glanced up with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how long I can hold on to this patch of ground. I’m so lonely and sometimes every part of my being yearns for a gentle touch, to hear another breathing next to me. To share the load.”

  “I figured as much. It’s got to be hard.”

  “This land, the emptiness is draining the life from me and Jonathan is more like sixty than a twelve-year-old. It breaks my heart. I see no choice but move into town. I could get a job as a laundress or maid. For Jonathan and Addie.”

  He touched her cheek with his fingertips, cursing the roughness. “Marry me, Rebecca. Let me take your burdens. We can be a family and the children can have a father. I’ll quit hunting vermin.” He paused for a long moment. “A man like me doesn’t know flowery words. I’m plainspoken but I love you and I want you to be my wife.”

  Surprise shot across her face. “You love me? Are you sure?”

  He lifted a silky tendril of hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “I’ve long wanted to tell you but I don’t have anything to offer. Nothing but myself. If that’s enough—”

  “Oh, Bonner, you’re more than enough. I’ll be proud to walk by your side.” She cupped his jaw with a touch so tender it made his breath hitch. “I love you, you know. I have for a long time.”

  This was news to him but he knew she’d never say those words if she didn’t mean them.

  He drew her against him, lowered his head, and placed his lips on hers. The kiss spoke of promises and all the sweet tomorrows that would come. They’d raise the kids and grow old together. They’d make each day count for something. And they’d never suffer in lonely silence again.

  The lines from a song drifted through his head. Anyone can make you happy by doing something special. But only someone special can make you happy by doing nothing.

  And Rebecca was his sun and moon and stars all rolled into one.

  The Gunslinger

  ~Chapter 1~

  Southwest Texas 1881

  Her father had always warned her of how hot hell would be if she didn’t walk the straight and narrow.

  Him being a man of the cloth, and on a personal level with such things, she figured he’d known a lot about that particular subject seeing as how he steered from the path at every turn.

  And she fervently agreed about the inhospitable temperature.

  If ever there was a hell, this would be it.

  Skye O’Rourke brushed back hair that stuck to the sweat on her face and took in the shimmering horizon. The desert landscape baked under the sun like a piece of old buffalo hide.

  God, how she hated this land and the incessant wind that dried crops and people, turning them to nothing but dust.

  Weary and heartsore, Skye rested her forehead on the fencepost that she struggled to set back into the ground. At that moment, she hated Matthew O’Rourke for dying, for leaving her all alone, for bringing he
r to this desolate place.

  And she cursed the blessed hopelessness that had squeezed out softness and dreams and laughter.

  But most of all, it was the endless quiet that filled her days. The only thing to break the silence was the creak of the windmill that sang its own sad song, the pitiful lowing of her sick milk cow, and the occasional cluck of a chicken running loose in her yard.

  Sometimes, she feared she was losing her mind.

  The yearning to hear another voice rose up so strong at times it almost strangled her.

  This was no kind of life for a woman. If only she had somewhere to go and money to get there, she’d pack up and head back East. Some place far from the Texas desert. Some place where life was easier. Someplace that didn’t age a woman so quickly.

  Sweat trickled down between her breasts soaking her bodice. Skye undid the buttons until she reached the frayed ribbon on her chemise underneath. It didn’t matter. Nothing much mattered. No one would see her even if she were to strip off her dress.

  Impatiently, she shoved the fabric aside, desperate for a bit of cooling breeze against her parched skin.

  Thickness clogged her throat. How could she go on? And who would care if she couldn’t?

  Movement in the distance caught her attention. She shaded her eyes from the sun. The tall figure of a man with a gun belt hanging low around his hips walked slowly toward her. He had something slung over his shoulder.

  A saddle?

  Why would a man walk in this heat?

  Had she finally gone stark-raving mad, seeing a vision only in her mind? She closed her eyes then looked again. Only he was still there and getting closer.

  Was this some new ploy of her enemy, Hiram Dunston?

  The man terrified her. He’d started coming around after her husband died, trying to force himself on her. She’d been forced to shoot him, wounding him in the shoulder. Now, Hiram was hell-bent on destroying her. Two nights, he’d ripped out every fencepost along the front of her property. She also felt certain he’d sickened her milk cow and set fire to a wagon around back. Thank goodness, the wagon hadn’t been in the barn. She shuddered to think how she’d manage if she lost her horse.