His Rip-Roarin' Bride

by Martha Hix

  “I, too, want a family. Lots of children. Your children.”

  “But...”

  “I love you, Lisa. I love you with all my heart.”

  He loved her? He had actually declared his love? Oh, happy day! “Wes, sweet man, you are so dear!”

  “Is there a possibility you might picture my mug as your beloved’s?”

  This seemed the best moment to place everything on the table, for if this was leading up to a proposal, she wanted nothing to regret later. “You’ve been there from the start, my love.”

  “Then...” He smiled. Widely. His eyes brightened in the light from a pair of low candles that lit the table. He reached into the vest pocket where he usually kept his silver star. He cupped his hand around whatever he’d fished out. He reached for her hand, turning the palm up, and placed a ring in it.

  Her eyes rounded; she gasped, looking at a large diamond and the smaller ones surrounding it. “Wes...?”

  “Will you allow me to slip this ring on your finger? Will you please marry me, and become my darling wife?”

  “Where in the world did you get this?”

  “That isn’t the answer I expected.” When she didn’t speak, he explained, “I bought it. Years ago.”

  “For someone else?”

  “No. No one. I knew you’d come along one fine day, and I didn’t want Ross Hall—he’s the local jeweler—to send off for something. I’ve been saving this ring for you.”

  Where she should have experienced paroxysms of delight, caution took over. “It’s lovely, Wes, really. But I can’t accept it. Not yet, anyway.”

  His black eyebrows knit closely together. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know you. You don’t really know me.”

  He grinned a little. “I know I haven’t heard a curse word pass your lips, not since the day you faced Fleming Hanson.”

  “I haven’t needed to curse.”

  “Then you’ve enjoyed being in my...shall we say, employ?”

  “Don’t dig for compliments. You know I am pleased. And pleased that you raised my ‘wages’ to five dollars a day.”

  “Your debt is paid.”

  “Is it? Really?”

  “Completely. Lisa, will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

  “Wes, take caution. You rush the situation.”

  His voice began to sound irritated. “Could be I am rushing the engagement. You are without a chaperone, and I don’t have my mother to keep me in line. If we don’t marry soon, you and I both know it won’t be any time before I put my conscience-devoid baby maker in that sweet, hot baby maker of yours. I don’t want our children created as bastards.”

  “Me, either.” She ran her fingertips over the beautiful and expensive ring. Then she set it gently down. “There are things I need to know about you.”

  “Such as?”

  She hesitated, not wishing to voice anything but praise for the fine man who would give her his world. But she must. “Wes...I may be a hayseed from The Divide, but I’m not completely unworldly, nor am I stupid. You have lavished goods on me from the very start. When A.J. stopped by today, he let it slip that my clothes were not your sister’s. Not in any form or fashion. You got Mrs. Craig to call on the dressmaker.”

  “That’s not a criminal offense. You needed clothes. What was I to do? Wrap you in horse blankets?”

  “It was a nice and sweet and wonderful and thoughtful thing you did, Wes, providing for me. That’s not the point. Not at all. You are a sheriff. You couldn’t possibly earn enough to spend lavishly.”

  “You’re my first ‘lavish.’”

  “Wes, you have some mysterious way to acquire cash, as if it grew from your ears. Are you on the take?”

  “What? On the take? Are you joking? Here I tried to give you a ring—along with a secure future and all the love you could ever want, only to be insulted. No, Lisa-Ann, I am not squeezing money out of some poor soul or souls. Since by your own statement, we just don’t know each other, I wonder why you would even think I would.”

  “You do nothing but spend money.”

  He took a long slug of Scotch, then banged the empty glass on the table; the candles jumped. “You’re right. I haven’t known you. Come to think of it, you’ve made several remarks that show you don’t have much faith in me. I’ve been too much the slavering puppy dog to let it register. What is your problem, Lisa-Ann? Make it one sentence.”

  “I don’t trust lawmen.”

  “I’ve given you absolutely no reason to doubt my trustworthiness, and I resent that you do, especially since I just offered to give you whatever you want in the world.”

  Line of sight on the table, she answered. “I want honesty.”

  Honesty? She thought him a liar? A screw must be knocking about in her brain. He raked up the ring, shoved it in his vest pocket. “Let’s get out of here. Get you to the hotel.”

  “We haven’t finished our meal.”

  “Oh, yes, we have.”

  Chapter 5

  It didn’t take Wes long to regret getting cross with Lisa-Ann.

  It took much longer to get past it.

  She didn’t grace his home the following morning. The next day he heard she’d asked for a job at the Hotel Nicolett. Could he blame her? Probably not. Should he blame her? No. He did get the cart before the horse. They didn’t know each other well, with many things left unsaid.

  Nonetheless, he did exhale with relief when the innkeeper sent word—the hotel job would not materialize. Since she lacked every essential for survival, the man who adored her would be willing to talk, if for no other reason than to continue providing for that glue factory candidate, Priscilla.

  Wes would not allow Lisa-Ann to do without. He would find a way to send her safely on the journey to free her mother. Or wherever else she wished to go. Naturally, he wanted that path to lead straight to the adobe hacienda on Avenue B.

  Before promising and making good on those issues, he knew he must fess up to Lisa-Ann about his means. This was tough. He preferred anonymous generosity—for a number of reasons. Foremost, as his father had done, Wes wanted to be judged on his accomplishments, not by the size of the Alington family’s fortune.

  It was time to lay it all out for Lisa-Ann.

  He hoped she wouldn’t peg him a braggart, or as an insane liar.

  Just before dark, the evening after he shoved her ring back into his pocket, he recalled the night they met. How he laughed at her laundry list of qualities describing a gentleman, particularly Romeo and a white knight.

  He decided to lighten the mood.

  He could handle a limited amount of poetry, music, and song. He could pick a guitar just enough to get by, so he borrowed one from Deputy Dub. What did a Romeo wear? Wes quickly decided to stick closer to home. Then he asked a Mexican friend to borrow the trappings of a Mexican swain—a straw sombrero with tassel thingamabobs hanging down, and a colorful shawl—a zarape.

  It was a good thing the temperature had climbed lately, especially given the open-air sandals that he also borrowed.

  Set on getting it right, Wes rehearsed a Spanish song of love and hope. As all good Spanish lyrics included corazón, he made certain to add the translation of “heart” after each stanza.

  He called on her hotel but didn’t enter the building. As the sun set in the west, gaslights came on to light the hotel out front, and Wes stood in the unpaved street below the second-floor room he figured to be Lisa-Ann’s. He began his serenade.

  Someone on the hotel’s ground floor yelled, “There’s some crazy Mexkun singing somethin’ wild. Somebody—hurry! Get Sheriff Wes ’fore it’s too late.”

  “You old fool. That is Sheriff Wes!”

  Meanwhile, the erstwhile Sir Romeo kept up his Spanish song of hearts and hope.

  Hotel guests came out to see what was going on. People on the street stopped and turned, several listening from the boardwalk. At the end, Wes
bowed in all their directions, then looked up to see if the woman he loved might have listened.

  Of course she had. There she was. Having lifted the window, she leaned out, and she was laughing. “What are you thinking, dear man!”

  “I’m thinking that I love you. ¡Estoy pensando que te amo!” He bowed toward her. “Mi amor, I yearn to be your Romeo, your knight in shining armor. But I don’t have any metal clothes.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Of course, my darling—my Juliet!” He hadn’t had a drink, but that wouldn’t make for a good story. He spread his arms wide, lifting the guitar in the air. “Could I do something this silly without a few drams? Shall I climb the wall to get you?”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs.” She lowered the window.

  He lifted his smiling face to the heavens. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  * * *

  They sat on the stagecoach depot bench, talking in the moonlight. After chuckling about Wes’s crazy Romeo stunt, of course. Lisa-Ann sat with her head on his shoulder. He looped his arm around her left shoulder. She could hardly believe her ears, his story. She laced her fingers with his, and listened.

  “My parents met in Ohio,” Wes said. “My father wanted to serve The Lord, with my mother at his side. His father is a different story. He was an industrialist. Owned a railroad in Pennsylvania and invested in a petroleum refinery in Ohio. When he passed away, he left his children a sizable fortune. My newlywed parents didn’t want the money. They settled in Texas to live a simpler life. They donated most all of the income from Father’s trust to help communities and churches. And people in need. I have kept up his traditions. At this point, I want to help bring a railroad line down from Plainview.”

  “My goodness.”

  “Once we have rail service, Lubbock will do nothing but bloom. The cotton industry that Linnea Kincaid—Jewel Craig’s niece-by-marriage—has begun, will be more. And I have every faith that oil lies beneath our feet. If that is so, there will be no poverty for those who dare to go for it.”

  “My goodness,” was all the girl from the isolation of The Divide could manage to say.

  “I don’t tell people about my financial state. People react in odd ways to the wealthy. I prefer to be judged on my deeds, not on what I can give away.”

  “Wes, you’re wearing blinders. It doesn’t go without notice, your approach to money. Even A.J. says people think someone in your family robbed banks. I thought you were crooked. No telling what other people believe.”

  “Let them continue to speculate. I won’t allow money to change me. All my life I wanted to uphold the law, to be a sheriff. That’s all I aspire to. Beyond having a family with my lovely and honorable wife...like the shieldmaiden from The Divide.”

  He lifted her hand to kiss the back of her fingers. “I could tell you that I will bathe you in rosebuds and milk, and give you anything you wish—such as diamonds—and I’ll give you those things. My father gave my mother what she wished, like that stove you are so fond of. What can I give you to show how much you mean to me?”

  “I’m not keen on possessions, but I do like that fancy cook stove.”

  “Would you reconsider your ring?”

  “I’d like a plain gold band to honor our love.”

  “What will I do with this diamond ring?”

  “I don’t know, Wes. I’ve never owned baubles.”

  “What do you want that money can buy?”

  She shrugged. She really wanted to mention the business of building outdoor ovens. She wouldn’t. It would sound like she dug for money, now that she could.

  “Lisa, about your mother. You once told me about saving money to fight for her release from prison. I’d like to help with that. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to know a few facts about the case.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why do you think she is innocent?”

  She looked down, like she always did when troubled. “I don’t want to spoil this glorious evening with old heartbreak.”

  “It was important enough that it ultimately brought you to Lubbock. Please, my darling. Tell me.”

  “It hurt my grandparents, the way Vater treated their daughter. Making an out of wedlock child, not even pretending to ask for their daughter’s hand. As it turned out, Vater did the honorable thing. But handled it poorly. His in-laws didn’t know about the marriage. Pepaw found Vater, with Violet. That was the last straw.” She shivered. “He killed my father.”

  Giving the comfort of a tender touch, Wes added, “Isn’t it peculiar, how one’s actions can harm another, even for years and years?”

  “True.”

  “How did your mother get blamed?”

  “She refused to let her father pay for her sins. My grandmother went to the sheriff. Said her daughter didn’t kill the Hessian. He just laughed at her, saying Violet Wilkins needed to pay for bringing shame on The Divide.”

  “Not his judgment to make.” Wes squeezed her hand gently. “I don’t know how you could prove any of this.”

  “I have Granny Fan’s diary.”

  “That’s a start.”

  “My mother has been on good behavior. Not a mark against her. That ought to count for something with the parole board.”

  “It might.”

  Lisa-Ann pushed her spectacles higher up her nose, then closed her eyes. “If you want to know the whole truth, my family hasn’t had good luck with officers of the law.”

  “How is that?”

  “My grandfather stood on a bluff overlooking the Guadalupe. He planned to jump. The sheriff of Kerr County did listen to my grandmother’s plea to save her beloved Leo. But...he took his boot and shoved Pepaw into the river.”

  After sweet sympathies, Wes said, “Often, men think they want to jump. The soul takes over. The soul does everything to save him. I bet that was the case—”

  “My grandfather couldn’t swim.”

  “Oh, Lisa. So much for you to bear.”

  “I didn’t find out about Pepaw until I read Granny Fan’s diary, after she drowned. I saved money for my mother, because I never doubted her innocence.”

  Wes pulled her closer, kissing her cheek, and rocking her gently. “I will do everything in my power to make it right for your mother. With your permission I’d like to hire Grant Kincaid to take her case.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  “I’ll see him tomorrow.”

  She leaned even closer, feeling cleansed and free. And hopeful. “Ever since I met you, I have made you pay for the sheriffs who weren’t good men. I was wrong to do that. You are the finest man I’ve ever known.”

  He grinned. “Well, how about that!”

  He bent his head to place his lips on hers. At first his kiss was sweet, healing, with his hands respectful and tender, but she quickly wanted more. The wonderful sensations he aroused in the bathtub returned, right here in front of the stagecoach depot. When she was just about at the point of ripping his shirt away, she couldn’t help but giggle.

  “What?” He pulled back just a little.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I want a lot more of it.”

  He laughed deep in his throat, and began to tickle her neck. “I fully expected to have to train you to the bit, my sweet, but I see I have a most interested student in the language of love. You are exactly what I’ve been looking for all my life.”

  “I like that.”

  “There’s only one thing I would like to change. Maybe two. I have heard you, time and again, speak about going into the oven-building business.”

  “True.”

  “Please put it out of your head. A wife takes care of her home, her husband, and their children. I don’t want you pulled between two lives.”

  Lisa-Ann considered it. And frowned. If it boiled down to Wes or ovens, which would she take? Wes, of course. “I pray the babies get here quickly, so I don’t become hideously bored.”


  “They will.”

  “One more thing. No cursing, please. If you want to say dirty words between the sheets, fine, but can you not elsewhere?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Actually, this challenge she eagerly embraced. Wanting to lighten the mood, she asked, “Want to hear a joke about a dirty word? It’s big around home.”

  “I’ll bet you’ll tell the joke, even if I say no.”

  “Of course. Did you hear the one about Siegfried Fuchs? He got really tired of people making fun of his name...so he changed it to Ludwig Fuchs.”

  Wes leaned his head back against the depot wall and groaned.

  “Fuchs is a German surname, in case you didn’t know.”

  “I got the picture. We’d better talk to the marrying preacher first thing in the morning!”

  Lisa-Ann flipped around to sit in her fiancé’s lap. “You were supposed to laugh.”

  He pinched her behind instead. “Get up, woman, where we can get you back to the hotel...before we use up the ‘virgin’ part of the bride on this back street of Lubbock!”

  * * *

  “That felt delicious, husband dear! Wherever did you learn to do that?”

  The ecstatic bride had definitely left the “virgin” part behind. Lisa-Ann and Wes were married three days after that evening on the depot bench. Naked and spent on the bed, they now celebrated a month of wedded bliss.

  “A wife ought not to question her man’s training. In the case of my wife, she has learned well and she knows how her husband can please her. After all, his training benefited her, more than he!”

  She reached for a feather headdress that she’d purchased from an old man selling used goods out of a wagon. Wes had allowed himself to be teased into wearing those feathers, earlier in the night.

  “What else do you have in the lesson plan? I could use more training...” she said.

  “Minx! I’m out of material.”

  “That, I doubt.” She rolled her eyes, then rolled atop her husband, making sure to position her private place within easy reach of his. He grinned, patted her bare behind, and got to it.