The Outlaw Takes a Bride

by Susan Page Davis

  “I’ll come by this afternoon,” the well-dressed man said. Johnny’s expectations rose that this was the physician. When the second man thanked him and left, Johnny stepped forward.

  “Are you Doc Neale?”

  “I am. I take it your arm needs attention?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Step through.”

  Johnny followed him into another, smaller room that might have once been a dining room or bedroom. Now a high, narrow cot stood in the middle of the floor.

  “Sit there.”

  Johnny sank onto the stool he indicated.

  “What’s your name?”

  Johnny’s throat tightened. “Mark Paynter.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, but I’ve only been in town a few months.” Dr. Neale unpinned the sling from Johnny’s shirtfront and removed it gently.

  “Horse get the best of you?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Let’s get your shirt off.”

  The doctor eased the sleeve off his left arm and hung the shirt on a peg behind the door. When he came back, he touched Johnny’s right arm lightly. Johnny flinched and ground his teeth.

  “Hurts, eh?”

  “You said it,” Johnny mumbled.

  “I’ll give you something for the pain. At least it’s not a compound fracture.” The doctor prodded gently, and Johnny made himself sit still for it. “Feels like the humerus is broken.” At Johnny’s blank look, he said, “That’s the bone in your upper arm. The ends of the bone actually seem to be together. I think it’s more cracked across, rather than snapped in two pieces.”

  “Does that mean you don’t have to set it?”

  “I’ll manipulate it a little, but I don’t think I’ll put a cast on it. This type of fracture can usually be healed by keeping the limb strapped in place. I’ll give you a proper sling, and that should work as well as anything. But you’ve got to keep it immobilized. No thrashing about or trying to use it too soon.” While he spoke, the doctor turned away to a worktable and busied himself making notes and then shuffling a few bottles from the row at the back of the surface.

  “What will this cost?” Johnny asked.

  “Three dollars, if you have cash. Otherwise, we’ll talk.”

  “I can pay.”

  “Good. That’s mostly for the sling and the medicine I’m going to give you. It will blunt the pain and help you sleep at night.”

  Johnny nodded. The doctor brought him a small glass with a half inch of fluid in the bottom.

  “Drink this. It will dull the pain while I treat you.”

  “Thanks. It won’t knock me out, will it?”

  “Why? You got plans for this afternoon?”

  Johnny hesitated. “Well, yeah, actually. I have to meet someone when the train comes in.”

  “You’ll be fine. But no punching steers or swinging a lasso for a month or so. You hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.” Johnny tipped up the glass and drained it.

  “Do you have to ride horseback to get home?” the doctor asked.

  Johnny shook his head and regretted it immediately as the pain launched again in his skull. “Renting a buggy. For the visitor.”

  “Good.” The doctor puttered about for a few minutes, measuring some powder into a small vial and making some notes on a card. After a while he came to Johnny’s side and took hold of his injured arm. It didn’t hurt as sharply as it had when he’d mounted Reckless. The medicine must have been taking effect. Johnny stared at the opposite wall, where some kind of certificate hung in a gilt frame.

  “I’m going to manipulate it just a little,” Dr. Neale said. “It’ll hurt, but trust me, a lot of people have it worse than you do. Your bone is mostly where it should be.”

  “Right,” Johnny said and clenched his teeth.

  The pain jolted him and made his stomach drop. He caught his breath and determined not to holler.

  “You’re doing fine,” Dr. Neale told him. “I’m going to wrap it for now, since you’ll be traveling, but you can take the bandage off in the morning.”

  The doctor wound the bandage snugly around the injured limb, and it did feel better. He buttoned Johnny’s shirt.

  “There, all done but adjusting the new sling.” He brought over an item of sturdy black material and eased Johnny’s bent arm into it then fastened the buckle behind his neck. Eyeing the arm critically, he adjusted it until the angle pleased him. “Remember, that’s to keep you from bending it when you shouldn’t. Just let it rest.”

  “I’ll try.”

  The doctor held up the vial. “Stir a teaspoon of this powder into your coffee or water every evening. Not too much. You can use it during the day if the pain is severe, but willow bark may be enough. Come see me in a week. If you get a high fever or the pain seems much worse, come back sooner. If things are progressing as they ought in a week, I’ll leave you alone for a month.”

  “Thanks, Doc. Do you happen to know what time it is?”

  The doctor took out a pocket watch and looked at it. “Five minutes to two.”

  “Thanks.” Only twenty minutes before the train pulled in.

  “You’re all set.” Dr. Neale put the glass vial of medicine in Johnny’s good hand.

  “Oh, wait. The money.” Johnny set down the vial and fished the bills from his pocket. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Anytime.”

  Johnny pocketed the medicine and grabbed his hat. When he reached the street and was able to walk swiftly toward the depot, he knew he felt better. He half expected Cam to be waiting outside the station, but he was nowhere in sight. A few people loitered about the train platform. One or two had luggage with them. Johnny went over to the ticket window. “Train on time today?”

  “I expect so.” The ticket agent glanced upward. “Eight more minutes.”

  “Thanks.”

  He paced the platform and leaned out to stare north down the tracks as far as he could. Nothing. Supposing the train was late? He paced some more. What would he say to Sally? He tried to remember the things she had said in her last brief letter. What did she expect of Mark? He wished he’d had time to get a haircut. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar and under the place where the sling was buckled. Still no train. He looked around him. Three people had formed a line at the ticket window, and there were more folks on the platform. A man in shirtsleeves was stacking luggage on a dolly. Johnny paced some more.

  The train’s whistle surprised him. He stood back, a yard from the edge of the platform, and braced himself against the wind of the monster as it lumbered in and ground to a stop. The platform came to life. People hurried toward the passenger cars, and the porter wheeled his luggage-laden dolly down to the baggage car. Johnny held his breath and watched the people who disembarked. What if Sally wasn’t on this train? Every woman who got off received his intense scrutiny. They were all too old, too young, or claimed immediately by family members.

  Except one.

  Johnny froze when the black-garbed woman turned his way. Wide eyed, she looked a little scared, but determined. Her stark dress proclaimed her a respectable widow, not too prosperous, but decent. The sun glinted on the burnished hair that peeped from beneath her modest black hat.

  As he stepped closer, her gaze settled on him. She looked like a little blackbird, all somber from head to foot—except for her face. When he looked into her blue eyes, Johnny forgot all about the mourning clothes. She was pretty enough to stop a locomotive.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sally stepped hesitantly toward the tall man with his arm in a sling. He looked so young. Could he really be Mark? She hadn’t expected a beard. But he was the only man within sight not intent on claiming baggage, giving directions, or boarding the train. And he was staring at her.

  “Mr. Paynter?” she asked.

  “Y–yes.” He stepped forward and after an awkward moment, he held out his left hand. “You must be Mrs. Golding.”

  She smiled. So formal. “
I believe we had made it to first names in our letters. Shall we go back to Sally and Mark?”

  “Fine with me.” But he looked as though the words would choke him. In fact, if asked by a friend, Sally would have said he looked petrified.

  His hand enclosed hers. It was rough from hard work, but warm. In fact, everything was warm. The sun beat down on her, and her small veiled hat offered next to no protection. She had forgotten how intense the Texas sun could be. The train hadn’t stopped long enough this morning for her to find a place to change, and she’d had to keep wearing her tired black dress. After three days of travel, she was certain she didn’t look her best.

  “Did you have a pleasant journey?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” They were both silent for a moment, and then she couldn’t stand it. “Or perhaps I should say, it was not overly unpleasant. I’m sure it could have been worse.”

  Mark chuckled then. His whole face changed when he laughed, and Sally suddenly knew she had made the right decision.

  “What happened to your arm?” she asked.

  He sighed and glanced away and then back to her eyes. “I had a driving accident last night. Smashed up the wagon.”

  “Oh my!”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “My ranch hand has gone to hire a buggy, so I can drive you out to the ranch.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t. Mark had mentioned nothing about a ranch hand in his letters. He had also written that he would have everything prepared for the wedding on her arrival. Best to be direct, Sally decided. “Will we have the ceremony first?”

  “Uh, well…” Mark swiveled his head and looked toward the hitching area beside the station. “I thought you might want some time to…to get to know me better before we make things permanent. And then there’s this.” He looked down at his injured arm. “I had to see the doctor, and I didn’t have time.…”

  Sally laid a hand gently on his sleeve. “Mark, I’m ready to marry you now.”

  “Oh, well, uh…I guess we can, if…” His gaze darted about the front of the depot.

  He was watching for someone. The ranch hand, obviously. “I didn’t know you’d hired a man.”

  “Oh. I uh, needed some help, and…” He lifted his hat and wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve then put his hat back on, but not before Sally noticed his thick chestnut hair. “Cam’s an old friend. I met him at—well, at another ranch I used to work at. I’m planning to increase the herd soon, and I thought it would be—”

  As he talked, his face seemed to wobble and then go hazy. If only it weren’t so hot! Sally’s knees shook, and she knew her body was about to betray her. She reached toward him.

  “Mark, I…”

  As she fell, his strong arm came around her and supported her.

  Johnny did the best he could, but the injury and the sling hindered him from sweeping Sally up into his arms. Luckily, a sturdy bench sat not three yards away. She seemed not to have completely lost consciousness, and he was able to guide her to the bench, supporting her heavily with his good arm.

  He sat her down so that she leaned against the wall of the depot and ran back to pick up the small basket she had dropped on the platform. When he returned and sat down beside her, she was patting her face lightly with a handkerchief. Strands of her golden hair stuck to her damp forehead and neck. Her face was flushed, and she avoided his gaze. Johnny wished he could set her at ease, but he didn’t have much experience with fainting women.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, still not looking at him. “What must you think of me, swooning like that?”

  “Well, I—I guess I think you’re unwell. What can I do?”

  “I’m not ill,” she said. “Not really. It’s just that it’s so hot, and I’m…well, if you want the truth, I’m hungry.”

  Johnny let out his pent-up breath. Hunger he could handle. “Sorry. I didn’t think about you not having much to eat on the train. There’s a hotel right across the street. Let me take you over there when you’re able, and we’ll get some…” He hesitated, not sure what to order for a famished lady. “Some sandwiches, maybe? And some tea?”

  “That sounds heavenly.” Sally’s gentle, rolling voice reminded him of home and his mother. Ma never raised her voice unless she absolutely had to.

  “You can rest at the hotel while I…while I see to things.”

  “What things?” she asked.

  “Well, the…the preacher, I guess. If you really want to go ahead with it…”

  “I do, Mark. I feel that we’ve gotten to know each other very well through our correspondence. Don’t you?”

  Johnny’s mouth was dry. He wanted to tell her that he’d only seen half of the correspondence in question, but he couldn’t do that. He looked deep into her somber blue eyes. How could he disappoint her, when she had gone through so much to get here?

  But still, it wasn’t right. Sally was a God-fearing woman. He knew that from her letters. If he told her he’d been lying…

  On the other hand, didn’t she deserve the truth?

  Johnny’s head spun. If he didn’t do something, one way or the other, he’d be the one swooning on the platform. He would feed her, and then they would talk. That was it. He jumped up.

  “Can you walk now? I think we should get you out of the sun and order some luncheon.”

  “I would appreciate that so much! I confess, my funds ran low, and I tried to economize. Perhaps too much.”

  “I should have sent you more money.” As soon as it came out of his mouth, Johnny clamped his jaws shut. He was adding to the lie. Stop talking, you idiot! He held out his left hand. “Let me help you.”

  Sally took his hand and pulled on it, levering herself up off the bench. She turned and tucked her hand snugly in the crook of his good elbow.

  “Now, you tell me if you feel woozy,” Johnny said.

  “I will. Thank you.”

  He led her through the depot and out the front door, onto the main street. Still there was no sign of Cam and the rig.

  Halfway across the street, he paused and looked back. “Oh, your luggage.”

  “We can go back for it later,” she said.

  “Sure.” A wagon was coming down the street, but it wasn’t Cam. Johnny drew Sally on toward the front steps of the hotel. It felt fine having her hold on to his arm like that, even though the warmth of her dainty, black-gloved hand made his arm sweat. A fellow lounging on the hotel porch straightened when he saw them—saw Sally, really. He didn’t glance once at Johnny, but he tipped his hat and murmured, “G’day, ma’am,” as Sally passed.

  “This is a small town,” Johnny said as he held the door open for her.

  “I don’t mind,” Sally said. “I was getting quite tired of St. Louis.”

  That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant, but he didn’t disillusion her. The thought that had flashed through his mind was that in Beaumont, it wouldn’t take five minutes for everyone in town to hear about the beauty who had gotten off the train and waltzed over to the hotel on Mark Paynter’s arm. If he was going to break the engagement, he needed to do it soon. Every minute he spent with her made it harder.

  The dining room wasn’t busy in the middle of the afternoon; only two tables were occupied, and those by travelers who had gotten off the train. Johnny took Sally to a small table near the side wall and pulled out a chair for her.

  “Thank you.” She sank into it and closed her eyes for a moment.

  He watched her anxiously, but her eyelids fluttered up again, revealing those captivating blue eyes. She smiled at him.

  “Won’t you have a seat, too, Mark?”

  Johnny took the chair opposite her and set his hat on his lap. He tried not to stare, but she was quite pretty, even with a smudge on her cheek, limp hair, and dusty dress in a severe black fabric. He could only imagine how attractive she would be when she’d had a chance to clean up. He hoped she wouldn’t wear black all the time.

  “May I bring you something?”

 
Johnny glanced up. A middle-aged woman with her iron-gray hair in a bun stood next to the table.

  “Uh, yes, thank you. A pot of tea and…” He arched his eyebrows at Sally. “Sandwiches?”

  “That would be fine,” Sally said.

  “We’ve got some chicken and dumplin’s left from dinner,” the woman told her.

  Sally’s face nearly glowed with anticipation. “That sounds lovely, if you don’t mind, Mark.”

  It sounded good to Johnny, too, but he decided he’d better find Cam and straighten things out with him. Fast.

  “Sure. Uh, none for me, but if you have any cake or…”

  “Fresh pies,” the woman said.

  “I’ll enjoy a piece of pie with you when I come back,” Johnny said to Sally.

  “When you come back? Where are you going?”

  “You know—to make sure everything’s ready.”

  “Oh, yes.” Her cheeks flushed, and Johnny wanted to linger. Watching Sally’s expression change was more entertaining than a roundup.

  He stood and fidgeted with his hat. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He looked back at the serving woman. “Do you have a place where Mrs. Golding can wash up and rest for a while?”

  “Certainly. We have a small parlor she may use.”

  “Good.” He shot one more glance at Sally.

  She gave him an uncertain smile. “I’ll be waiting.”

  He nodded and headed out the door.

  Across the street, in front of the train station, Cam was just climbing down from the seat of a light wagon. Johnny hurried toward him.

  “Cam! Where have you been?”

  Cam turned and eyed him for a moment then grinned and slapped the flank of a thin bay horse. “Gittin’ the rig, boy. Gittin’ the rig.”

  “All this time?”

  Cam shrugged. “What time is it?”

  Johnny suspected Cam had spent at least an hour in the nearest saloon. At least he had remembered to go for the rig.

  “It’s way past train time. I’ve got Sally over at the hotel, chowing down. Now, while we pick up her bags, you help me figure out how to break it to her that we’re not getting married.”

  Cam blinked owlishly at him. “What? Is she homely?”