by Sasha Gold
Isabelle narrowed her eyes at Violet. “Are you suggesting I’ll never see him?”
Violet nodded. “Yes, something like that.”
“He knows nothing about this, does he?” Isabelle’s voice shook.
Savannah held her hands up in an attempt to soothe her. “This is a good idea, Isabelle. You need to trust us.”
“You forged a man’s signature?” Isabelle jerked to her feet. “On a marriage license?”
Violet jumped up. “Sign the damn paper, Isabelle!”
There was a soft knock at the door. “Everything all right in there?” Cameron asked.
“Just fine!” Isabelle clapped her hand over her mouth. Her reply was far louder than necessary. She half-expected Cameron to come charging into the room to see if all was well, but his footsteps retreated down the hallway.
No one spoke. Isabelle could hear her blood rushing in her ears. Were her circumstances so pathetic that she needed to conjure up a false marriage to some distant stranger? Did she need to stoop to a farce that was probably illegal, not to mention immoral?
Savannah set her hand on her shoulder, and Isabelle looked up into her warm eyes.
“He’ll never know, Isabelle. The man never comes to Colter Canyon,” she whispered. “Don’t do this for yourself. Do it for the boys.”
Isabelle closed her eyes. They prickled with tears. The boys. Savannah had to mention the boys. Sometimes Isabelle thought she was strong and other times she felt weak as a lamb. Her life in Texas showed her the two extremes every day, from triumph to despair and back again, sometimes all in the same minute. Throughout it all, her beacon shone. The small light glimmered and showed the path, the life she yearned to give Seth and Luke. She rubbed her forehead and drew a trembling breath. “Give me a pen.”
Chapter Four
One Month Later
Isabelle stepped into the feed store and nodded at the man holding the door for her. He tipped his hat and gave a respectful nod.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Hudson,” he said.
She smiled in response. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
A month had passed since she’d signed her name to a marriage license to marry a man she’d never heard of. The first few days she’d hardly been able to sleep at night. She was a fraud. A cheat. But when she went to town to shop or order supplies, not one man approached her. All of them gave her a wide berth. Shop owners treated her with the utmost respect.
Even more surprising was the difference she felt in herself. She took a little extra care with her dress and her hair. If she was going to town or to church, she’d wear something other than simple muslin. Even Violet noticed, giving her approving looks.
No one asked her much about Matthias, thank goodness. Ben and Cameron never said a word to her about the matter, and people in town assumed the man simply didn’t come around much. A time or two when a shopkeeper mentioned Matthias Hudson’s name, she waved it off, telling them how busy he was chasing criminals.
Isabelle strolled around the feed store, stopping by a crate of puppies. A ‘For Sale’ sign hung on the front. Thank goodness she’d left the boys at the Sutton Ranch. It was always challenging to bring them to town, but if they were here now they’d both be clamoring for a pup.
The mother lay amidst her litter and thumped her tail. Four pups wrestled and rolled about, bumping into her. With their toffee-colored coat and cinnamon eyes, they were tiny versions of their mother. A smaller one lay curled next to her. He lifted his head and gazed at Isabelle.
“Some fine pups there, Mrs. Hudson. Take your pick.” The shopkeeper came to her side, Mr. Rawlings, a robust man with spectacles on the end of his nose.
“They’re beautiful. I wish I could take them all.”
“The little one resting by momma has never done too well. He’s the runt, but any of the others would be fine dogs. The sire is from the Ramirez Ranch. Sal Ramirez is very proud of his dogs. He raises the best dogs in Colter Canyon.”
“Who owns the dam?”
“That’s Honey. She’s mine. Sweetest-natured dog you ever met.”
The runt yawned. His pink tongue lolled out, and he chirped, sounding more like a little bird than a dog. He had a dark circle of fur around one eye, a pirate’s patch.
“He’s a little darling, that one.”
“You don’t want the runt. Take one of the others.”
“I love his little patch.”
The shopkeeper picked up the runt and set it in her hands. Isabelle couldn’t help but smile. The little one’s coat was silken. She sniffed his head and closed her eyes.
“He has such a sweet smell.”
“Puppies are like that. This little fella is a nuisance though. He cries all night. You ought to pick one of the others.”
Isabelle sighed. While she’d love nothing more than to bring the boys a surprise, she couldn’t imagine caring for another creature just yet. The boys still woke her, crying out from their bad dreams. She was often so tired in the evenings, she’d fall asleep in her chair by the fire. The last thing she needed was something else that cried at night.
“I don’t know the first thing about dogs. I’d best wait. Maybe next time Honey has a litter I’ll see about getting one.”
Mr. Rawlings nodded. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Reluctantly, Isabelle left the dogs and went to the counter to make an order for feed and hay. While she paid for her purchase, a man and woman came into the feed store. They had two boys with them and stopped by the puppies.
The shopkeeper tilted his head towards them. “Sure you don’t want to get the pick of the litter before someone else does, Mrs. Hudson?”
Isabelle didn’t want the pick of the litter. What she wanted was the small pup with the patch over his eye. She already had stories coming to mind to tell Seth, stories of Sinbad the pirate puppy, the most feared puppy in the western seas, but she kept her wits about her… She knew she’d get even less sleep if she had that tiny bit of fluff under her roof.
“No thank you, Mr. Rawlings.”
The family had chosen a puppy, she could tell by the delighted sounds coming from the boys. One of the boys came to the counter holding a wriggling pup, one of the bigger ones, and Isabelle was pleased to see he hadn’t picked the littlest one. The two boys chattered excitedly.
They were older than Seth and Luke, but Isabelle could easily imagine how her boys would love a little pup. She pushed her guilt aside and finished with her order. She hurried out of the store and went down the walkway to the livery.
She’d already spent two hours in town, and Shorty would probably be waiting at the livery barn. Cowboys on horseback filled the street, kicking up dust and grit. The walkway was crowded, and she wondered what might be going on to bring so many people to Colter Canyon.
At the livery she found Shorty leaning against a railing. He spoke with one of the hands, another older gentleman, the owner of the barn.
“All I can say is that the womenfolk of Colter Canyon can sleep easy for the first time in a long while,” he said.
“What’s happened?” Isabelle broke in.
Both men turned to look at her, but neither spoke.
“I’m sorry. I hate to eavesdrop.”
Shorty took off his hat and scratched his head.
“Actually, I love to eavesdrop,” Isabelle said, giving him what she hoped was a winning smile. “Tell me, Shorty. I want to know.”
“Not really fit for lady’s hearing.”
She frowned. “I will pester you all the way home.”
The two men grinned at her, but still neither filled her in on what they’d been talking about. A young man brought the buckboard to the front door of the livery. The bays snorted. One pawed the ground.
“Flynn’s ready to head home,” Shorty said, gesturing to the gelding. “And it’s hard to talk over the rattle of the wagon.”
Isabelle followed him to the wagon and let him help her up. “This just makes me want to know more.”
r /> Shorty climbed on and shook his head as he snapped the reins. He steered the wagon through the streets, picking his way slowly to avoid the busier parts. They passed the post office and barbershop. Isabelle cast a few curious glances his way. His mouth was a grim line, but finally he broke his silence.
“Folks are coming to town because they expect a hanging.”
Isabelle felt crestfallen. She hadn’t expected that sort of news. “Oh, dear. I hate to hear about that sort of thing.”
“It’s a good thing. The man’s worse than a criminal.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Shorty’s mouth quirked, and he huffed a few heavy sighs. “The fellow’s a murderer, and he killed women.” He turned to her, his eyes etched with worry and anger. “They caught him just outside of town. So I’m mighty glad he’s behind bars. The man’s an animal. I might just go and help build the gallows myself.”
“I see,” Isabelle said. Shorty usually didn’t say more than a few words at a time, and it was painful to hear him so eager to help put another man to his death. “I’m sorry I asked.”
He didn’t reply. They reached the outskirts of town, and he put the horses into a trot. The harness jingled, and the wagon rumbled along the rutted road. Behind them, sitting in the tiny Colter Canyon jail, was a criminal so monstrous he even scared Shorty. She shuddered and tried to banish the thoughts from her mind. Sometimes, she decided, it was better not to ask too many questions.
Chapter Five
Matthias Hudson settled on the barstool of the Magnolia and ordered a whiskey. Usually he didn’t have a drink at noon, but after the last few days, he decided he deserved a whiskey, maybe two.
“Care to buy a girl a drink?”
Clarice’s voice never failed to bring a smile to his lips, especially since it had been three or four years since he’d been in Colter Canyon. He turned to find her standing beside him, looking smug. She probably imagined the money she might win from him in a few hands of poker.
“Clarice,” he said amiably. “You know I’m madly in love with you, and it hurts my feelings you even ask. Of course I’ll buy you a drink.”
The Magnolia’s Madame wore a gown that lifted her breasts and cinched in her waist to a narrow span. She had girls working at the saloon that were half her age, but not one could brag about such an enviable figure. While she was still beautiful, it wasn’t her looks that he liked best about Clarice. It was her sharp mind and dry sense of humor.
Clarice sat down beside him and leaned forward. “Is it true, Matt?”
Matt motioned for the barkeep to bring Clarice a drink and waited until he’d poured the drink and moved on to another customer before asking, “Is what true?”
Clarice’s eyes sparkled as she took a dainty sip of her whiskey. “Usually I can spot a liar, and I’ve never known you to be one, so I guess it’s just a rumor.”
“Most likely,” he agreed. “Here I thought you were coming over to congratulate me for delivering Darrell Hughes to Sheriff Reid.”
Clarice’s lips turned down. “About damn time someone did something about that man. He’s an animal. I could tell right away. He used to come in and try to hire some of my girls. There are men who like it a little rough, and then there are men who like to play with blades. That son of a bitch cut one of my girls. She started screaming, and I had to break the door down to get to her. I knew right away who killed that poor girl in Sandia Springs.”
Matt nodded. Hughes had killed several women across Texas. Matt knew the details of the killing spree. It was his job to know the men he hunted, their crimes and what they had done and might do. Hughes was one of the worst he’d ever hunted, a man with no regard for life. Matt could tell Clarice plenty about Hughes, but he wouldn’t. Clarice might be the toughest woman he knew, and she cussed better than most men, but still, the details of Hughes’ crimes were better left unsaid.
He drained his drink and gestured for another. “All right Clarice, let’s talk about something that doesn’t have me thinking about Hughes. Tell me what the rumor is?”
Her eyes glittered. “That you married Jerome Holt’s widow?”
He was lifting his glass to his mouth and paused. “Come again?”
“Isabelle Holt. His mail-order bride. She came in from Boston to find him on his deathbed. She tried to nurse him back to health but wasn’t a week before he was pushing up daisies. Left her with two little ones.”
Clarice arched a brow. “None of this rings a bell?”
Matt took a swallow of his drink. “You’ve got the wrong man.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Kind of what I figured. You’re never going to settle down. Or if you do, it won’t be in some two-horse town like Colter Canyon. Although I’d sure like it if you stayed on. Then we could fire Sheriff Reid and have us a real lawman in charge.”
Giving a contemptuous snort, she shot the rest of her whiskey. “The bad elements in this town are more scared of me than that little pencil neck.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Last year he lost those two Williams brothers. The bank robbers. Now how do you lose a pair of bank robbers? They went on to rob three more banks before they got shot, not by the bank owner, but the bank owner’s mother. I was telling everyone who’d listen that we ought to offer that ol’ girl a job as sheriff of Colter Canyon. Anyone would be better than Reid.”
“Yeah, I heard about that. Reid says he had some work done so the jail would be a little more secure. It better be. If I have to go after Hughes a second time I’ll shoot him myself, and maybe Sheriff Reid along with him.”
“Now you’re talking,” Clarice said.
Matt rubbed his forehead. “I’m tired. It’s been a long few days. All I want is a room at the hotel and a long nap.” Getting to his feet, he reached into his pocket to pay for his drinks. To his surprise Clarice waved him off.
“On the house,” she said. “I heard you drove a blade into that bastard and cut off a finger. That deserves a drink, in my book. Hell, I’ll even spring for one of my girls to show you a little fun, if you like.”
Matt shook his head and marveled that she knew about the severed finger. Hughes had pulled a knife on him, which was a bad idea. In seconds Matt had taken the knife away, and when Hughes lunged to get it back he lost his small finger on his left hand. The man had bawled all the way to Colter Canyon.
“How’d you know about his finger, Clarice?”
Clarice chuckled. “Matthias Hudson, I’ve been around a long, long time. I find about things so quick, sometimes they haven’t even happened yet.”
Matthias chuckled. It felt good to have a drink with Clarice. The last week had been long and hard. Hughes fought one minute and caterwauled the next. Matthias had never been so damn glad to hand off a criminal.
Clarice tilted her head towards the stairwell. Matt followed her eyes to see one of Clarice’s girls descending, a lovely brunette. She smiled at him and winked.
Clarice lowered her voice. “Suzette would love to spend a little time with a big, handsome bounty hunter. She’s a lot of fun. Adventurous.”
Matt nodded to the woman. She was lovely, but a girl like that wasn’t what he was looking for. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he figured he’d know when he saw it. He shook his head. “Thank you. Maybe some other time.”
Clarice frowned. “How long are you in town?”
“I’ll be staying a few days at the Cypress Hotel. Been looking forward to that for the last week. Once Hughes is sentenced and hanged, I’ll be on my way.”
She pouted. “At least come by and show me how to play poker. I could use a few tips.”
He scoffed. “Right, Clarice. You got your eye on that reward money I have coming.”
“I’ll be waiting if you change your mind.” She winked. “About cards or company.”
Matthias tipped his hat, and with a respectful nod, walked out of the saloon. He pushed through the saloon doors to the sidewalk and eyed th
e bustle of the town. It was just a little past noon. Next on his list was to pick up a few things at the Mercantile, and then he’d go to the Cypress Hotel, get the finest room they had and order lunch and a bath.
His horse, Arlo, tied to the hitching post, swished his tail. The Cypress had a livery barn, and he planned on making sure Arlo got a good rub down and a bran mash this afternoon. After riding a hundred miles in four days, the horse deserved a little extra attention.
Normally, when he delivered a criminal, he didn’t stay in town to make sure the man got what he had coming, but he didn’t trust Sheriff Reid. The man wasn’t dishonest, but he was inept and cowardly and, if rumors were true, a drunk. Clarice had a point when she said most of the town would be more afraid of her than Sheriff Reid.
Matt untied his horse, mounted and trotted up the road to the feed store. He tied Arlo to the hitching post. He needed some liniment for Arlo but found himself looking down at a crate with a dog and a pup. The sign said, pups for sale, but there was only the one, a tiny fellow with a patch over one eye.
The storekeeper came over. “Sold the last one just a few minutes ago. No one wants the runt. Can’t say I blame them.”
“You going to let him stay with his momma a little longer?”
The man shook his head. “If I can’t sell them, I have no use for them. I’m going to do away with this one.”
“Do away?”
The man nodded. “I should have destroyed him when he was born, but the wife wouldn’t let me.”
“I’ll take him.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
The man nodded. “He’s all yours.” He reached into the crate, grabbed the pup by the scruff and lifted him. The pup yelped. Matthias took the wriggling ball of fur in his hands and peered at him. The pup stared back.
“Shit,” he grumbled. He tucked the pup under his arm, bought the liniment and left the feed store. He shoved the bottle in his saddle bag and led Arlo to the Mercantile next door. The dog was quiet, wide eyed. Matthias didn’t have much of an opinion on dogs, but he couldn’t imagine this little dog could be too much trouble. Who the hell kills a pup, he thought with disgust.