The Outlaw Takes a Bride

by Susan Page Davis

  “Feeling pretty good, Mr. Paynter?” Sally asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Better’n I have in some time.” He put his arm around her waist, and Sally turned toward him, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Lots better,” he amended.

  She slid both her arms around him, and they stood there for a long time, holding on tight.

  “Writing to your folks again?” Johnny asked. Sally sat at the kitchen table with paper spread out and her pen skittering across it like a lizard.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Uh-huh. Ma said they might be able to come down next month for a week or two.”

  “That sounds good,” Johnny said. “Where’ll we put ’em?”

  “In our room, I reckon.”

  “Guess we could sleep out in the barn.”

  She chewed on the end of her pen for a moment. “Would you mind?”

  “No. Would you?”

  “Not if it meant having Ma and Pa here.”

  He smiled. The last two weeks had been the happiest in his life, and he would do anything the keep Sally smiling. She was easy to please, and he loved to see that wide-eyed look of wonder and glee when he came up with some small surprise for her. When he’d dug up a few wildflowers from the high pasture and brought them down to plant in front of the cabin, she’d about hugged him senseless.

  “We need to make a proper room for a couple of hands out there if we’re going to increase the herd this fall. Maybe we ought to go in town this afternoon. I could get some lumber, and you could pick up some new mattress ticking and curtain material. And dishes. We’ll need a proper set of china if your ma’s coming.”

  Sally’s lips curved upward. “I’d love a chance to shop again. Maybe Mrs. Ricks has some new stock. And she might have word of a new sewing job for me.”

  “I’ll hitch up the horses right after dinner,” Johnny said.

  The new mare pulled nicely on her own, but he liked to pair her with Reckless so Lady wouldn’t tire as easily. Together they made an excellent team. The mare was calm and obedient in harness, and Reckless seemed to catch her mood. Or maybe he was trying to impress her.

  They were only a mile out of town when Eph Caxton came charging down the road on his bay gelding. He pulled up next to the wagon.

  “Flynn’s gang has struck again,” he said without preamble. “Sheriff Jackson’s getting up a posse.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Sally tried to hold the tears back as she packed Johnny’s things into his saddlebags. She didn’t want him to go, but she would never say so. Johnny said he had to help the sheriff, who had been so good to him, but she knew the real reason. Those men had killed his brother. Johnny had to do this.

  He had insisted she not pack too much. The posse would move fast, and they didn’t want to be weighed down. She let him make his own bedroll and prepare his weapons while she stashed food that would keep on the trail, matches, a tin cup and plate, extra socks, and one clean shirt.

  He came in from the barn and leaned on the far side of her worktable.

  “Will someone have a coffeepot?” Sally asked.

  “No doubt.”

  She added a small parcel of ground coffee. The other men would appreciate it if everyone contributed to the pot.

  “I’ll leave you my rifle,” Johnny said.

  “You’ll need it.”

  “I can’t leave you here without one. Not after what happened to Mark.”

  She gazed at him steadily. “Mark had a rifle when they came.”

  Johnny looked away. “I expect he did.”

  “Just go. But come back to me, Johnny.”

  “What about if you go and stay with Liz Merton or the Hoods?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  That did nothing to ease his anxious frown. “I mean it, Sally. If you stay here, I’ll worry the whole time I’m gone.”

  “And who would tend to our livestock?”

  “At least ride into town with me. I’ll buy you a gun at the mercantile.”

  “That’s too big an expense,” she said as she poured water into his canteen. “We need to save what we can for new stock.”

  “I won’t be thinking about buying more cattle if I lose you, Sal.”

  Just for a moment, she glimpsed the agony he had felt when he discovered Mark’s body. She set the dipper down and put the stopper in the canteen.

  “All right. Saddle Lady for me.”

  “It’ll have to be that old cavalry saddle.”

  “It will do.”

  When they got to Beaumont, mounted men were gathering in front of the sheriff’s office.

  “You go,” Sally said. “I can buy it myself.”

  “No, I’ll come with you.”

  In less than five minutes he had picked out a used Sharps rifle and two boxes of cartridges. The price was higher than she liked, but he insisted on a good repeating rifle. He loaded the gun for her in the store.

  “She’ll need a saddle scabbard, too,” he told Mrs. Minnick. “Can’t lug it all the way home with nothing to rest it in.”

  “I’ll get it,” Sally said. “You go on, Johnny. The sheriff probably wants to hit the trail.”

  He eyed her unhappily and nodded.

  He’d kissed her at home, before they mounted up, and there were too many people in the store to put on a display. He seized her hand and pulled her outside, still holding the new rifle. He drew her to one side, where their horses would shield them from the view of most onlookers.

  “I’ll come back. We may be a few days, but I will be home.”

  “All right.”

  He glanced around and stooped to kiss her briefly then handed her the rifle. She let out a sigh as he untied Reckless and swung into the saddle. After he had joined the throng down the street, she ducked back into the mercantile.

  Mrs. Minnick was selling ammunition as fast as she could set it on the counter. Sally got in line. When her turn came, Mrs. Minnick said, “Oh, Mrs. Paynter. I’ve got your scabbard right here, and your husband didn’t pick up his cartridges. You want that all on your account?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Sally wouldn’t think about how she would pay for things if Johnny was killed chasing outlaws. She would have to trust the Lord to bring him back in one piece.

  She gathered everything and carried her unwieldy burden outside. She stared at her saddle for a moment, perplexed. Finally she laid the rifle and scabbard carefully on the ground and tucked the cartridge boxes in the pouch that hung from her saddle. She picked up the scabbard and eyed the straps.

  “Need some help, ma’am?”

  She turned and found one of the Hood boys behind her. “Oh, yes. Pete, isn’t it?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “I was trying to figure out how to attach this to my saddle. Mr. Paynter insisted on buying me a rifle before he left with the posse.”

  “Probably a wise decision.” Pete took the scabbard and walked around to the off side and deftly attached it. “Take the rifle out when you get home, before you take off the saddle, eh?”

  “I will. Thank you.” Sally picked up the Sharps.

  Pete took it from her. “Climb aboard, ma’am.”

  Sally mounted, noting that Pete turned away while she did so. She wondered if she’d shocked him by riding with a man’s saddle, but Pete was a rancher, and he knew about the posse. He probably understood about making do.

  “All set,” she said.

  He turned toward her and settled the rifle in its resting place.

  “There you go.”

  “Thank you. Are you going out with the posse?”

  “No,” Pete said regretfully. “Pa and Bill are going. I drew the short straw, so I’m minding home with the womenfolk and kiddies. Call on us if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” Sally said.

  He frowned. “In fact, Ma and the Marys would probably beat on me if I didn’t invite you to come stop with them while the posse’s out.”

  She smiled. “Convey my thanks to them, but I’l
l be all right. I don’t want to leave our place empty.”

  He nodded and ambled into the mercantile. Sally looked down the street. The mounted men were heading out. She sat still on Lady until they had passed. Johnny was riding beside Eph Caxton, and they both waved to her.

  When they had left, the street felt hollow. Sally remembered her letter home and stopped at the post office to mail it, though now she had more news to send her parents. That would give her something to do tonight.

  The ride home had never seemed so long. The scabbard chafed against her leg, despite her skirt and layered petticoats. Finally she urged Lady into a lope. No matter what she did, it would irritate her. She may as well get the ride over as quickly as possible.

  Once home, she hopped down, stiff and sore. She unbuckled the scabbard and laid it down with the rifle still in it. She wrestled the saddle off and got it into the barn. Finally she went out for the bridle and turned Lady out to graze.

  Back in the barn, she went to hang up the bridle. In the opening at the front of the building, she looked around to make sure no one was about then lifted her skirt. Her thigh had an angry red patch where the strap had rubbed. She picked up the rifle in its case and walked to the house. Some of that salve she had used for her burns might help.

  The afternoon dragged. She wished she had gone to see Mrs. Ricks. If she had a sewing job to work on, she could at least feel productive in Johnny’s absence. Her letter home occupied her for half an hour. Her parents knew about Johnny now. She had written a long letter spilling the whole story the day after Johnny told the sheriff. In their reply, they had expressed concern, but they trusted Sally’s judgment on the matter. If they could just meet him, she thought, they would realize he was the right man for her.

  By sundown, she had cleaned the entire cabin and baked as much bread as she thought she could use before it molded. Johnny would return to a cozy home he would be proud of.

  She was fine, thinking those thoughts, until full darkness descended. After barring the door, she lit two lamps and pulled the calico curtains shut over the windows. She wished she could lock her mare in the barn, but the open pole building had only one room that was really enclosed—the harness room. If robbers came, they would find it easy to steal Lady.

  She shivered. Johnny had shown her the place where Mark had died. Right over there on the floor, between the front door and the table. In a way, she’d been twice widowed. First David, then Mark. How horrid it would have been to arrive here expecting to be married and discover her fiancé lying there dead.

  She turned away from the spot and brewed a strong cup of tea.

  Lord, she prayed, I thank You for bringing Johnny along so I wouldn’t be alone when Mark died. I don’t want to lose Johnny, too, Lord. Please…

  She didn’t know what else to say, but she figured God knew her tattered heart. She fell asleep with the bedroom lamp still burning and her Bible open beside her.

  The next morning, she hated to unbar the door and go out to milk. Her father had told stories of the Comanche attacks that used to be so common in Texas. Of course, those were past, now that all the tribes were on the reservations, but the outlaws might be out there waiting for her to expose her vulnerability.

  She prayed and carried the loaded rifle with her to the barn. She checked inside to make sure no one had taken refuge there then went to the fence, where the cow was lowing. The rifle leaned against the wall beside her while she milked, and she carried it as she gathered the eggs and fed the chickens, but no one disturbed her.

  Finding enough to occupy her for the day took some effort. She didn’t want to stray from the house, so visiting Mark’s grave was out of the question. She caught up her mending and added to her letter to her parents, telling them more about the posse and Johnny’s purchase of the rifle.

  By noon she was pacing the cabin. Tomorrow she would return to town. It was that or do laundry, and she didn’t really have enough to make that worthwhile yet. Besides, to do the wash, she would have to spend hours outside, with no one to keep watch. There was always the danger of fire, too. The smooth new skin on her hands was a constant reminder of her washday mishap. Better to spend the day in town, near other people.

  The sore on her leg still stung. The thought of riding Lady to Beaumont and back with the scabbard chafing her didn’t appeal to her. She would have to harness the mare and take the wagon, but that wasn’t so hard. Her father had taught her how when she was a girl.

  Once the decision was made, she felt better. In addition to visiting Mrs. Ricks, she could ask around for news of the posse. Of course, it was too soon for anyone to have heard much, but you could never tell. Perhaps she would go by the Mertons’ and have a cup of tea with Liz.

  She slept a little better that night, though she roused once to the lowing of the cattle and again when a welcome rain pattered on the roof. It wasn’t much of a storm, but it might be enough to keep the temperatures a little cooler.

  In the morning, as soon as she had done the necessary chores and eaten breakfast, she hitched Lady and set out for Beaumont. She found herself looking frequently over her shoulder to scan the trail behind her. Out here on the road, she had no cover, and no defense but the rifle.

  On impulse, she stopped in at the Caxtons’ ranch. Rilla came to the door and welcomed her with a spark in her eyes.

  “Come in, come in! I’ve had no one to talk to these past two days but the two old punchers Eph left behind, and they’re no great shakes when it comes to conversation, believe me.”

  Sally laughed and climbed down from the wagon. She hadn’t planned on more than a dooryard call, but Rilla seemed so eager for company that she went in and consented to drink a cup of coffee and eat a piece of apple cake.

  “No news from the posse, is there?” Sally asked.

  “Nary a word, but soon I hope.”

  The older woman was full of stories of ranch life, and she had Sally laughing inside of five minutes. She was one of those who had come around to offer food and help with the housework after Sally was burned, and she looked pointedly at her guest’s hands.

  “How are those hands doing now?”

  “Much better, thank you,” Sally said. “They’re a little tender yet, but Johnny intends to plant our fall garden when he gets back, and I think I’ll be ready to work it.”

  Rilla frowned. “I can’t get used to him being his own brother.” She brushed a hand through the air. “Oh, you understand what I mean.”

  “Yes.” Sally took a deep swallow of her coffee. She didn’t like going into much detail about Johnny’s identity, but the pastor’s brief explanation at church had left some questions in the community.

  “You came to marry Mark, I understand.” Rilla’s brown eyes drilled into her.

  “That’s true,” Sally said. “But under the circumstances, Johnny and I decided it was best to go ahead.…” She took another quick sip. That wasn’t strictly true. They had both made the decision to marry that day, but she hadn’t been possessed of all the facts. This was the aspect she dreaded her neighbors knowing. They would think less of her, surely, if they knew she’d married a liar. But even worse, they would think less of Johnny for his deception. He may be ready to bear the consequences, but a streak of protectiveness goaded her to shield him from the community’s criticism.

  She set down her cup and smiled. “I find I made the right decision. Johnny is a good man.”

  “I’m sure he is.” Rilla frowned. “It’s just that Eph thought he was Mark for…oh, I don’t know. Weeks.”

  “He was a little embarrassed that people thought he was his brother, but he wasn’t sure how to straighten it out without causing more confusion.” Sally pushed back her chair. “And now I must be going. Thank you so much for the refreshment, and for the conversation. I do miss living close to other women.”

  “We’re not so far apart. We ought to visit more.” Rilla got up and walked with her to the door.

  “Come by anytime,” Sally said. �
��But I shan’t blame you if you wait until the outlaws are caught. To be honest, I didn’t truly feel safe driving that road alone, especially knowing what had happened to Mark.”

  “Yes, it gives one pause, doesn’t it?” Rilla stood on the stoop and looked toward the empty road. “We knew they’d raided in town, but not our closest neighbor.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sally said. “We really should have told you sooner. Johnny understands that now, but I hope you won’t hold it against him.”

  “Hmm, well, he’s doing business with Eph, same as his brother did, and so far he’s kept up his end of the bargain.”

  “Which he’ll continue to do.” Sally climbed into the wagon and waved. She turned Lady and trotted her out to the road. As she had feared, their neighbors weren’t able to trust Johnny quite as much as they had Mark, and they were uneasy over the blurring of his identity when he came. She and Johnny would have to be such good neighbors that the Caxtons and the rest got over that.

  In town, she went to Mrs. Ricks’s storefront first.

  “Sally! I’m so glad to see you.” The owner fairly pulled her into the shop. “The new shipment came in three days ago, and I’ve already got three women who want dresses from the new silk blends. Oh, and Mrs. Drury wants two new cottons made up for her daughter—Anne is getting married soon, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Sally said.

  “Well, I can keep you in dressmaking orders from now to Christmas if you’ve a mind.” Mrs. Ricks, a fashionable lady of about forty, led her to the shelves where her bolts of cloth were piled. “Most women just buy the material and sew their own dresses, but some would rather not, and women like Mrs. Drury just don’t have time. Before the wedding, you know. She wants to stitch the wedding dress herself, but Anne needs two other dresses, or so her mother thinks, for her trousseau. And then there are those, like old Mrs. Leary, who can’t see well enough to sew anymore.”

  “I’ll be happy to take the patterns and materials for a couple of orders with me,” Sally said. “My husband is gone with the posse, and I’ll be glad for something to keep me busy.”

  “Bless you!” Mrs. Ricks pulled out a new pattern catalog and showed Sally the styles her customers had chosen and gave her a slip of paper with Anne Drury’s measurements on it. Ten minutes later, as she was cutting the calico yardage for one of Anne’s dresses, two ladies entered the shop.