The Mail-Order Brides Collection

by Megan Besing

  “No!” Delia paled. “That’s out of the question.”

  “You needn’t act as though it’s the end of the world. There are worse things that could happen,” Sean grumbled. “You could be attacked by fire ants or chased by a hungry bear.”

  “Those are my alternatives?”

  “Merely making a point.”

  “I’ll remember how lucky I am the next time I’m chased by a bear.”

  “Or attacked by fire ants,” Robert chimed in.

  “If that’s settled,” Sean said, “I’ll prepare the horses and we can leave immediately. We’ll have this straightened out by evening.”

  “I’ll fetch my bags from the hotel,” Delia offered far too easily. “And then I’ll join you.”

  Sean glanced askance at her. She was awfully accommodating, given how the morning had started. He considered her escape routes. The stagecoach was gone, and the only other transportation was at the livery. Since he’d be at the livery, as well, that escape was blocked. She was far too smart to leave on foot. Obviously she’d seen the wisdom of his plan and had accepted the inevitable.

  He tugged on his jacket lapels. “Thank you for your assistance, Sheriff.”

  Once outside, Sean blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sun then made his way to the livery. Feeling unaccountably cheerful, he whistled a tune. At least he had a task. A measurable goal. The early summer weather was perfect for travel. Only a few wispy clouds dusted the skies. He was familiar with the trail the sheriff had recommended. Though the trip had challenges, he was confident in Delia’s fortitude and his own abilities if anything went wrong.

  He wasn’t underestimating her again. He’d unfairly chastised her choice of clothing the previous day. He hadn’t considered that, much like himself, she’d dressed for the occasion. Today she’d sensibly dressed for travel. She was tough and determined, and he was certain they’d arrive in Butte before nightfall.

  After haggling over the cost, he saddled his horse and secured another for Delia.

  The livery owner licked his thumb and counted out the bills. “Mind the bridge when you cross the creek. Sometimes the planks over the tracks come loose.”

  A rare bout of indecision gnawed at him. “Thanks for the tip.”

  Sean paused with his hands braced against the pommel of his saddle. The comforting scents of leather and animal soothed his conscience. This was the best choice. If he took the long way, he risked missing the justice of the peace. If he took the shortcut, he risked Delia’s safety. If he left her behind, she was liable to get herself killed.

  The livery door opened and a triangle of light illuminated the hay-strewn floor.

  “We’ll need another horse,” Delia announced.

  “I’m not taking a pack animal,” Sean volleyed back without turning around. “Take what you can pack in one bag. No more.”

  Perhaps he’d been precipitous in assuming she was prepared.

  “The extra horse isn’t for my luggage.”

  He pivoted on his heel and caught sight of the urchin from the jail cell. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Howdy, Colonel!” the child offered cheerfully. “Miss Delia says we’re trail partners.”

  Chapter 6

  Delia wasn’t leaving the child behind. Not when the town of Tobacco Bend was putting neglected children behind bars. The idea was ludicrous.

  “He’s ours,” she stated crisply. “You’d best get used to the idea.”

  “I don’t understand.” Sean clutched his head. “What do mean, he’s ours?”

  “Just that. We’re his new guardians.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says the sheriff.”

  She fiddled with a bit of lace on her sleeve. Convincing the sheriff had been a rigorous negotiation. She’d reminded him of the colonel’s contacts with important, high-ranking, Montana Territory officials. She might have exaggerated Sean’s influence. Then again—she might not have. For all she knew, Sean was quite well connected.

  “I have sympathy for his situation.” Sean paced before her, his hands threaded behind his back. “I will help as soon as we clear up this misunderstanding with the justice of the peace. I promise.”

  “I already signed the necessary paperwork.”

  “You can’t do that.” He paused. “Can you?”

  “I’m fairly certain I can. Because I just did.” She patted the boy’s shoulder. “Run along, Robert, and pick out a horse.”

  The colonel resumed his pacing. “This is unacceptable. We’re departing on a potentially dangerous journey. I can’t risk taking a child.”

  “He’s quite resourceful.”

  “I’m sure that he is.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” she pleaded. “Leave him there? Alone?”

  “What are you going to do with him once we’ve caught up with the justice of the peace?”

  She avoided his gaze. That part of the plan was still in progress. “I’ll think of something.”

  “I understand that you feel sorry for the boy, but we’re not in a position to help him right now. I promise you, I won’t forget about his situation.”

  “I won’t risk any further abuse,” she said quietly.

  Sean’s expression sobered. She’d seen the bruises on Robert’s back through a tear in his shirt. The evidence of the boy’s mistreatment had compelled her to action. The sheriff had treated him as though he was a commodity and not a living soul with thoughts and feelings.

  Sean halted and ran the back of his thumbnail along his forehead. “Can he ride?”

  “I can ride, mister,” Robert declared. “I’m a really good rider.”

  “Then pick out a horse,” Sean said. “There are several in the corral.”

  Delia rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “I knew you’d understand.”

  With the resilience of a child, the boy skipped out of the barn.

  “How bad is he hurt?” Sean spoke softly, brushing the hair from her forehead. “Can he travel?”

  She had a sudden, overwhelming desire to throw herself into the colonel’s arms and burrow close, to scuff her cheek against the rough wool of his coat. She wasn’t grateful, no, gratitude was far too weak an emotion. She respected him. She admired his willingness to do the right thing, even when he was inconvenienced.

  “The abuse isn’t recent,” Delia said. “He ran away a week ago. The sheriff caught him stealing food from the hotel.”

  “Poor kid.” Sean gently touched the discolored mark on her eye. “We’re a battered and bruised bunch.”

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  “You’re a brave woman, Delia.”

  “And you’re a kind man.”

  “Then you don’t know me very well.”

  “You’d never abuse a child, I know that much. I’d like to find that Mr. Pratt and give him a piece of my mind.” She’d like to give that awful man something more than a piece of her mind, but justice had to wait.

  The livery door slid open and she assumed an expression of serenity once more. Robert was remarkably astute at reading emotions. When the sheriff was blustering at her earlier, the boy had sunk back into his cot, as though making himself smaller and less noticeable. The tact had obviously served him well in the past.

  Robert led a mule from the corral. The animal appeared past its prime, swaybacked and knobby-kneed, with a stubborn glint in its liquid brown eyes.

  “Where’d you find that nag?” Sean led a second horse by the halter. “There’s a nice bay gelding in the bunch.”

  “Nah. I want this one,” Robert said. “His name is Fiddler. He ain’t pretty, but he’s the best animal in the bunch. I figure we don’t need speed to go over the pass. We need stamina. He don’t need to be pretty to get the job done. Fiddler here will do just fine.”

  The colonel appeared exasperated but resigned.

  He patted the boy on the head. “He’ll do fine. That’s a good pick.”

  Delia’s heart melted. All her initial assump
tions about the colonel had been wrong. Her limited experiences with men had soured her thinking. Those assumptions had woven threads of contempt through her judgement. Bit by bit, step by step, Colonel Morgan was tugging loose the threads, unraveling her expectations. He had her off balance and struggling for purchase.

  A half grin on his handsome face, he led a saddled mare to her. “The livery owner promised me that she’s docile.”

  Delia rubbed the animal’s soft nose. The horse snuffled and bumped her hand. “We’re going to get along just fine, won’t we?”

  “Stow your gear,” Sean said. “The sooner we’re on the trail, the better. We’ll be in Butte by nightfall.”

  Delia had pared her belongings down to the bare minimum for the trip. She stuffed her bundle into the saddlebag and stuck her foot in the stirrup.

  “Wait,” the colonel interrupted. “I’ll be right back.”

  She and Robert exchanged a confused glance.

  “I wonder where he’s going.” Robert stuck his hands in his back pockets. “He was in a hurry before.”

  The colonel returned twenty minutes later and handed each of them a canteen, a whistle, and a knife.

  “Never go anywhere without those three things,” he said. “Signal with the whistle if we get separated. Never be without a knife. Water is life around here. There are plenty of streams and rivers in the area, but it’s easy to get turned around and lose your direction. We don’t have to ride hard, but we have to ride steady.”

  Delia saluted. “Yes, Colonel Morgan.”

  With a giggle, Robert followed suit. “Yes, Colonel Morgan.”

  Sean took their good-natured ribbing in stride. “Mount up, troops.”

  Delia made a point of mounting by herself. The task accomplished two things. First, by easily mounting the horse, she proved to Sean that she was a competent rider. Second, she didn’t have to feel his hands around her waist, which kept her focused. And he was shockingly adept at making her lose focus. His kiss still lingered on her lips, and she absently touched them. The past few days had been illuminating.

  Love didn’t seem quite as mysterious, and Becky’s cross-country trek didn’t seem quite as inexplicable after that embrace. Sean had become a bright, shining focus in her thinking. All her thoughts orbited around him. When he was near, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He moved with a clipped, succinct grace, as though there was never a wasted move. She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to know more about his life and his family. When she looked at him, a fierce longing spiraled through her.

  She’d barely given Paul a second thought when Becky had declared her undying devotion. Now she viewed Paul as a link to discovering more about Sean.

  Her pulse tripped.

  That sort of thinking was a sure path to disaster. Sean was distracting her from her goals, and pulling her back into obscurity. She tightened her jaw. She refused to live a life of quiet desperation.

  With a surety born of years of experience, the colonel checked the tack on Robert’s mule and secured the boy’s saddlebag. He patted Robert on the knee and placed the gathered reins in the boy’s hands.

  “If you get into trouble, let me know. When we ride together, we look out for each other.”

  Robert squinted one eye. “The lady here says that you ain’t the one who hit her.”

  “Delia,” she spoke quickly. “You can call me Delia. The colonel actually saved me from an outlaw. He’s quite brave,” she added for good measure.

  “Don’t overvalue me.” Sean flashed a wry grin.

  “It’s good you ain’t mean,” Robert said. “I don’t wanna ride with no feller that would hit a woman.”

  “All a man has got in this world is the grace of God and his honor. I value both.”

  Robert sat up straighter in the saddle. “Me, too.”

  “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

  As Delia watched the exchange, her chest expanded. Robert was a fine boy who deserved a better life. Despite her uncertain future, she’d been compelled to act. If nothing else, she’d send Robert home to her parents in Denver. Her father would initially be livid, but he’d come around to the idea. He was always grousing about the lack of masculinity in the house.

  As she considered returning home, a blanket of melancholy descended over her. While there were many similarities between Colorado and the Montana Territory, there were a lot of differences. For the first time in her life she felt free. As though the world was full of possibilities. The mere idea of returning home tightened a band of discomfort around her chest.

  Sean mounted his horse with graceful precision. “Let’s haul out.”

  Delia tweaked her skirts over her ankles and adjusted her feet in the stirrups. As a child, she’d been obsessed with horses. She’d spent hours grooming and riding her favorite pony. She’d wept inconsolably two years ago when that pony died, and hadn’t ridden since then. Her skills might have rusted, but she’d quickly regain her stamina.

  “Don’t worry,” the colonel said. “We’ll be unmarried by sundown.”

  “Excellent,” Delia said, infusing her voice with a cheerful note. “Unmarried by sunset.”

  She’d never been much for premonitions, but she sensed her life had changed course, for better or for worse, and there was no going back to the person she’d been before.

  A wagon plodded past them. The driver had his head bent, blocking the person sitting beside him. He nodded to his passenger in that absent sort of way people nodded when they weren’t really listening. The person beside him gestured.

  Delia’s gaze sharpened. “Becky?”

  Sean twisted around. A woman sat in the passenger seat of the wagon passing them. She bore a striking resemblance to Delia, though she looked to be shorter and was slightly plumper.

  Delia leaped off her mount and rushed toward the woman. “Becky! How did you get here?”

  Yep, definitely a family resemblance. He motioned for Robert. The boy halted beside him.

  “I hired this driver,” Becky said. “I’ve been telling him all about Paul.”

  The driver sighed. “She has.”

  Becky stared down at her sister. “What are you doing on a horse, Delia? Where are you going? Where’s Paul? Who is this man?”

  “It’s a long story,” Delia replied, glancing in his direction.

  Sean shrugged. “A small delay won’t make much difference at this point.”

  The sense of urgency he’d felt that morning had faded in the past hour, and a curious lethargy overcame him. The day was sublime. A recent rain had turned the hills green, and the prairie grasses shimmered on the breeze between the buildings. Such beautiful afternoons were rare, why rush the experience?

  Since the town consisted of only four establishments, and only one of them was suitable for ladies, Sean directed them all toward the hotel once more. They hitched their horses and went inside. The clerk glanced up from his newspaper and raised an eyebrow.

  “Some fellow was looking for you earlier,” the clerk declared. “Hank is still serving breakfast ifin’ you’re hungry.”

  “Who was looking for me?” Sean asked.

  “Some spotted fellow.”

  He frowned. “A spotted fellow?”

  “Yep. He had bits of plaster all over his face.”

  “Paul? Was the man’s name Paul?”

  “Mebbe.”

  Sean muttered an oath. The man had to be Paul. How many other spotted fellows were traveling through the Montana Territory? First Becky, and now Paul. Neither appearance was entirely unexpected. Paul would have left the moment the quarantine was lifted, and Becky sounded equally infatuated. He only hoped his brother had truly waited the correct amount of time and wasn’t spreading the plague.

  Scrubbing his hands down his face, Sean considered the delay. The shortcut through the valley saved them half a day. They’d probably discover the justice of the peace holding court over a bottle of whiskey in a Butte saloon. What was the hurry?

&nbs
p; “We’re staying for breakfast,” Sean said.

  He’d barely finished the sentence when the door slammed open. Paul stood in the entry, his face covered in white plaster dots.

  “Becky, you’re here!” he declared.

  His fiancée’s face lit up and she limped toward him, awkwardly maneuvering the crutches. “I’m here, darling.”

  The two embraced in a passionate clinch. Sean and Delia exchanged a glance.

  The clerk lowered his newspaper. “I don’t wanna get sick. You’ll have to stay outside.”

  “I’m not contagious anymore.” Paul grinned widely. “The doctor gave me a clean bill of health. Is it official? Are we married?”

  Delia rang her hands. “Not exactly.”

  Becky whipped around. “What do you mean?

  They quickly explained the circumstances, and Becky’s face crumpled. “We’re not married?”

  “No,” Delia said. “You’re not married.”

  Becky set her jaw. “But you’re married.”

  “You needn’t say it like an accusation.” Delia threw back her shoulders. “I didn’t want to be married. This is all a mistake.”

  Early in his career, Sean had discovered that disaster often led to opportunity. The impassible, swollen river from the spring rain had given his soldiers a much-needed rest while they waited for the water to recede. An avalanche of rocks covering a mountain pass had saved him from certain death when a late spring blizzard had struck. His brother’s infatuation with a woman he’d met in Denver had led him to Delia.

  Except she didn’t appear at all enthusiastic about their nuptials.

  “I’m going to put this all to rights.” Sean stepped between the two sisters. “Paul can look out for the two of you while I chase down the justice of the peace.”

  Robert raised his hand. “Can I go with you?”

  “No,” Sean said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Aw, shucks.”

  The sooner he was on the road, the better. The time had come to leave, yet he hesitated. He didn’t know what was holding him back. Except that Delia had not been completely unaffected by their kiss. She’d even instigated the embrace.

  He glanced at his reluctant spouse. Events were moving rapidly. Perhaps they all needed to slow down and reflect on the current state of affairs. Delia had chided him about being too attached to a plan once he’d set it in motion, and the criticism was not entirely unfounded.