Brides of Texas

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  “Please, don’t shout at me!”

  “I’m not shouting!” He caught himself raising his voice enough to make the horse skittish. Embarrassed, he stated, “I’m merely being forceful. You cannot have the derringer back unless I’m absolutely certain you understand it has the capacity to take a life.”

  “Oh, I’d never take deadly aim! It would be sinful! I simply…” She tore her gaze from his angry glower and looked at her hands as she twisted them in her lap.

  “What was your intention?”

  She whispered faintly, “I didn’t want him to hurt you. But don’t think I was brave. I was shaking so badly, the gun went off before I even aimed.”

  “Courage isna the lack of fear. ’Tis acting in spite of the fear. You should be proud of yourself.”

  She shook her head. “I’m ashamed of myself. All we’ve done is talk about me, and I never once inquired as to whether you were injured.”

  She kept taking him off guard. She shifted like a prairie wind from one direction to the next without so much as a warning. For every irritating grain of sand the changes brought, there was also the sweet scent of wildflowers or a welcome gust of refreshing coolness. It made it impossible to be mad at her.

  “I’m fine. I’ve got the Lord to thank—and you, too. I’ll not forget ’twas you who shot him.”

  She rewarded his words of praise by scrambling down the side of the moving buckboard and getting violently ill.

  She felt hideous. Mortified, too. Mr. Gregor actually held her head as she lost her meal. It served him right. After all, he’d forced her to eat breakfast. But she couldn’t bring herself to be mad at a man who’d been gentle with her. Patient, too. Never once did he say a harsh word about the spineless way she handled all of the feelings roiling inside.

  “Miss Regent? Katie? We canna afford to stop and let you rest. I dinna know how bad off Whelan is, but he’s meaner than a stepped-on snake, and I want us as far from here as we can get. Are you understanding me?”

  She nodded.

  “There’s a good lass.” He lifted her into his arms, and she slumped against him like a rag doll. Katie tried to at least lift her head away from his shoulder, but he used his chin to nudge it back down. “Hold still. You’ve been through too much. ’Tis a wonder you’ve not swooned yet.”

  She missed his warmth and strength when he put her back up on the conveyance. He went to the rear of the wagon and plowed through some of the things. She was too weary to even keep her eyes open long enough to discover what he wanted.

  “Take a few small sips, lass. Go slow.” He held the speckled, granite-ware cup and tilted it to her lips, even though she’d tried to hold it herself. As badly as her hands shook, she couldn’t very well question his judgment. The cider made her mouth taste far better. She granted him a wobbly smile of thanks.

  “You’re shivering.” His soft tone made it clear he’d merely made an observation, not an accusation. “You’ve suffered more than your share of shocks these last few days. I want you to lie down, and I willna listen to a single argument. You have to rest, else you’ll slow us down.”

  “I—I just need a minute.”

  He tucked a few errant tendrils of her hair behind her ear. “I made a place for you in the back.”

  Wrapped in a cocoon of both his kindness and her quilt, moments later, she closed her eyes.

  The next thing Katie knew, she woke to a pat on her arm.

  “Miss Regent, I know I told you we’d avoid Dogtail, but ’twas the closest place. We’ll be coming to the edge of town in about ten minutes or so. I’m going to take us someplace decent folks don’t talk about, let alone go to. Keep quiet and stay wrapped in the quilt. I’m going to pass you off as an ailing lass.”

  She sat up and gave him a groggy look. “But why did we come here?”

  “I’ll wire lawmen about Whelan, and we’ll drop off the bodies.” He extended his hand to help her climb onto the seat beside him.

  “A temporary stop seems more than reasonable, Mr. Gregor.”

  “One other thing—there’s someone here who will store your belongings.”

  The man had the gall to sound as if he considered his plan quite reasonable. She fisted her hands in her lap and gritted, “I’m not leaving my things behind. I need them to start up again in a new town.”

  “That sewing machine—”

  “Was obscenely expensive,” she interrupted. At the moment, her future survival rated far above the social convention of not interrupting someone else.

  “It weighs a ton. I won’t have a hunk of iron and oak slow us down.”

  “I need that ‘hunk of iron and oak’ to make a living.”

  He crooked a calloused finger, tucked it beneath her chin, and tilted her face to his. “You won’t be around to make a living if we drag that contraption behind us. The only good it’ll serve is as a headstone on your grave.”

  Whelan won’t come after me, but I can’t tell him that.

  “Whelan holds no regard for life. You heard him—he shot his own partner in cold blood—and for nothing more than a greater share of the loot. Revenge on us for shooting him is a far greater motive.” He dipped a little closer. “The sewing machine might be costly, but life is priceless. Dinna waste your breath. I’ve decided, and you’ll not sway me.”

  “If Dogtail is such a pagan town, isn’t it a poor choice for a destination?”

  “I have a reliable contact. Fact is, I’m not concerned with your possessions a-tall. ’Tis your safety. No matter what happens, you’re to obey my orders.”

  She caught herself right before making that promise. Being agreeable about everything only got me into trouble last time. This time I’m going to take charge. There’s no reason a rational woman would blindly obey a man she’s just met. “I’ll be certain to listen.” But that doesn’t mean I’ll follow every last order spilling out of this man’s mouth.

  “I’ll have to ask you to take your hair down, Miss Regent. Put it into two plaits. You can pass for a schoolgirl if you do, especially with you being a wee snip of a woman.”

  It took little time to take down her already mussed bun. Katie finger combed the tresses, then hastily plaited lumpy-looking braids. She gave him a lopsided smile. “If they’re too neat, no one will believe I’m a sleepy child.”

  His features tightened. Perhaps he wasn’t satisfied with her appearance. “Do you suppose I ought to draw the quilt up over my shoulders?”

  “Clear up to your neck. Even up higher in the back. Slump against my arm, too. It’ll make you look shorter and more pitiful.”

  More pitiful? So that was what he thought of her. He viewed her as a pathetic spinster.

  He shot her a whimsical smile that erased the sting of his thoughtless words. “Too bad you still manage to look so tidy. Kids always seem to get grubby. A streak of dirt or a runny nose would do the trick.”

  “Dirt?”

  “Would you mind?”

  “I’m sure it will wash off.”

  A few minutes later, he chuckled as he leaned back to view his handiwork. Half a teaspoon’s worth of dirt and a drop from the canteen were his paints, and he’d mixed them with avid concentration before dabbing his finger against her cheek. With a quick, downward swipe, he smeared it. “There.”

  A habitually neat individual, Katie fought the urge to reach up and rub it off. He looked too pleased with himself for her to do that. They got under way, and she murmured in a rather embarrassed tone, “Mr. Gregor, you’d best call me by my given name. Children aren’t addressed formally.”

  He nodded curtly. “Lying goes against my grain. We’re both believers, so I’ll be telling the truth when I say you’re my little sister. You leave matters to me.”

  Katie sat there and thought what a clever man Chris Gregor was. She cataloged his strengths and virtues. He was compassionate, respectful, and a champion of the mistreated. He was moral and good and resourceful. But that resourcefulness and his protective nature troubled her. T
hose qualities would compel him either to apprehend or to kill her brother.

  “Aye, you leave matters to me.” Mr. Gregor’s voice resounded with confidence. “Your life is bound to change now.”

  In more ways than you know.

  “I’ll help you. In fact, our town is in sore need of a seamstress. Old Mr. Rundsdorf is gnarled as mesquite, so his clothes canna come out of a catalog. And he’s just the start. You’ll be making a whole new life as soon as I get you home. Set your mind on that.”

  “ ‘Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.’ ”

  “Ahhh, yes,” Chris stretched out those two simple words in such a way that she knew he relished them. “Philippians chapter four and verse eight.”

  Self-conscious, she confessed, “I can’t ever seem to recall where verses are in the Bible. I’ve memorized countless verses, but I jumble up the books and chapters and verses.”

  “Da and Ma worked on that with me and my brothers. They knew ’twas important to drum things into our impressionable minds during those tender years.”

  “You were blessed to have good parents.” How would my brother have turned out if his father had been a good man instead?

  “Aye, I was blessed. But hear me well, Katie.” He stressed what he called her and paused until she looked directly at him. “Regardless of how rough things might become, you’re to think on the good that lies ahead. You’ll have a safe and happy future. I’ll see to it. Aye, I will.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gregor.”

  “Chris,” he corrected.

  “Thank you, Chris.” Burrowed in the blanket, she lapsed into silence. If it weren’t for her worries over her stepbrother’s gunshot wounds and the guilt that she’d inflicted one of them, life would be incredibly sweet. As it was, things couldn’t become more complicated. Even so, Chris Gregor’s good-hearted ways impressed her and made her feel safe and secure.

  Chris told her Dogtail was Sodom and Gomorrah all rolled into one, and the short drive through town more than confirmed his estimation. She scooted closer to him on the buckboard bench. He even took the liberty of wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Under normal circumstances, she’d never allow a gentleman to behave so boldly, but this was as far from normal as she could imagine. Chris promised to make sure she was fine, and she knew he’d keep his word…until he pulled her buckboard to a stop before the last in a string of tawdry-looking buildings.

  Katie squinted in an attempt to see where they were. Even without her glasses, the sign was clearly legible. Huge, garish red hearts had been painted before and after the lettering on the place’s false front: LUCILLE’S.

  Chapter 6

  T he man’s a rascal! He probably chats with Lucifer on the banks of the River Styx each week. Earlier, he said it was as hot as the hinges of Hades. He ought to know.

  Katie clutched the quilt around herself more closely and shrank into its folds. Dear merciful heavens, he’d driven up brazen as a bottle-stealing sot and sat there in broad daylight so everyone could see who he was and what kind of business he wished to transact. She closed her eyes and moaned.

  “Well, well!” a deep, oily voice schmoozed from beside her. Someone touched the blanket right over her knee. Her eyes shot open. She stared in horror at the bristle-faced, rheumy-eyed man. “New kitten comin’ to the cathouse? I’ll have to visit and listen to you purr.”

  Chris drew his Bowie knife. “I’ll thank you to leave my sister alone.”

  “Hey!” The man jerked back his hand.

  Another man elbowed the first. “Stop gawkin’ at the woman and take a look at who’s on them horses!”

  “Who cares? They’re dead.”

  Chris leaned forward. “You know who they are?”

  “Not one. T’other’s Skip Freelon. Wanted dead or alive.”

  “Well, he’s dead, and I don’t regret it.” Chris turned the knife so the blade glittered in the hot Texas sun. “I’ll slice the neck or plug a hole in anyone who tries to hurt my sis.”

  “She ain’t really your sis, is she?”

  Chris pulled some of the quilt off of her head to give the folks in the general vicinity a quick peek at her dirty face and tiny shoulders before flipping it back up. “Aye, sister. She’s been sick.”

  “Don’t look none too sick to me. Mite pale, but that’s all.”

  “Best you think to step back. She lost her breakfast this mornin’.”

  The man warily shuffled back.

  The other stranger scowled. “How come you got black hair and your sis gots blond?”

  “Different mothers. Same Father.” Chris thrust his face close to hers. “He gave us both blue eyes. See?”

  She tilted her head toward Chris’s. At the moment, he seemed the lesser of the evils. He hadn’t told a lie, but he sure did manage to twist the truth to suit his needs.

  “She’s weak, my wee sister. Couldna take another day on the trail. Seein’ as I didna see a hotel here in your town, I thought to ask the only place with beds to rent us a room for the night.”

  She made a sound of distress. He couldn’t possibly expect her to set foot in that place—let alone spend a night!

  “You don’t happen to know any church ladies who’d come watch my sister for me for a short while, do you?”

  “Dogtail don’t have a church, and shady ladies is all we got. That there kid’s looking right puny.”

  “Betwixt her ailin’ and me needing to drop off the vermin who tried to jump us, I was glad to spy your town. I need to get her set.”

  As soon as the men ambled away, Chris gave Wren a quick squeeze. “Sorry, little one. We have to make do. You’re playing along just fine. I’ll dash inside for a minute and then come back out after you. If you think to cough every so often, it’d be a good idea.”

  She dug her fingers into his arm and hissed, “You don’t mean to have us go inside there! You’re just doing this to confuse Whelan, right?”

  He raised his voice, “No, Katie, honey. Father would understand that I’m just trying to take good care of you. We’ll stay just till you’re feeling a wee bit better.” He wrapped the reins around the brake lever and jumped down.

  Appalled at his plan, she decided this might be her only opportunity to get away. She reached for the reins.

  Chris reached for her. He was faster.

  “Katie, lass, are you runnin’ a fever again? Your cheeks are all red. Come here.” He deftly kept the quilt wrapped about her as he hauled her into his arms. She couldn’t possibly extricate herself from the bundle. “We’ll go inside. You gotta lay down and have somethin’ to drink.”

  “Please, I beg of you,” she whispered thickly against his neck, “don’t take me in there!”

  He patted her and said in a normal tone, “Everything’ll work out.” When he’d joined the rangers, he’d been given contacts where he’d find help. Though he’d never been here—or any other house of ill repute—Chris knew another ranger had saved this woman back when she’d just opened her establishment. Out of gratitude, she had an open door policy for every Texas Ranger. They were welcome at any time, for any reason. Reportedly, she provided an excellent cover for them, and she’d been good about sending telegrams and passing notes when necessary. All any ranger had to do was ask for Rahab—the biblical prostitute who helped the Israelites.

  “Stop your wiggling. Trust me.”

  “No. Not if you plan to take me into one of those places!”

  “Dinna go jumping to conclusions.” Chris tightened his hold of her. The sight of her trembling lips cut straight through him. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  “You said we were coming here to drop off those men and store my goods.”

  “And we will.”

  “Turn loose of me, you scoundrel.” She twisted and smacke
d at him.

  “That’s some wildcat you got yourself.”

  Chris clamped still tighter around Katie and turned toward the sound of the entertained voice. A buxom redhead in a garish red-and-black dress lounged against the brothel’s door.

  Irritated by the fact that he hadn’t been able to give chase to Whelan, that he was stuck with a woman who suddenly summoned gumption she should have displayed years ago so he wouldn’t have had to rescue her, and that his presence provided entertainment for the residents of Dogtail, Chris wanted to snarl a response. He tamped down the urge and said in the blandest tone he could, “I’m looking for Rahab.”

  The woman’s eyes widened very slightly, and she straightened up. “You’ve found her.” She tilted her head toward her door. “C’mon in.”

  “If you try to take me in there, you’ll be sorry.” Katie resorted to pinching him because she couldn’t do much else.

  He glanced down. “Behave yourself.”

  “You behave yourself!” She stopped pinching him. For an instant, Chris thought she’d finally realized he didn’t have any scandalous plans, but she slapped her hand onto the center of his shirt, scrunched in her fingers, and yanked the hair on his chest. “Listen to me,” she ground out.

  “No, you listen to me.” He pried free and tossed her over his shoulder. “We’re doing things my way.”

  Chris walked into the red brocade parlor of Lucille’s and scanned the place. No telling who might be here. Even with Katie over his shoulder, he kept one hand on his pistol. The madam’s cloyingly sweet perfume made his nose twitch.

  “Rahab” led him into a private parlor, shut the door, and motioned for him to dump Katie into a chair. He shook his head.

  An amused look crossed the redhead’s face.

  Before she opened her mouth and revealed he was a ranger, Chris said, “Miss Rahab, Katie’s not been feeling much like herself—”

  “You try hanging upside down and feeling decent!” Katie pummeled his back. “And speaking of decent—”