“No,” Joel corrected me. “Ralph and I may share the same last name, but not the same blood. His blood was tainted.”
I watched Joel examine the body of Ralph Middlebrooke with patient hands. Satisfied that they were truly dead, Joel nodded his head and stood up. “That man killed my wife four years ago. The day my wife died I threw my badge down and became a bounty hunter,” he explained in a voice that nearly broke my heart. I watched as the strong winds grabbed at his hat and clothes. The man seemed suddenly didn't seem dangerous, scary or spooky at all. Instead, he appeared broken, sad, lonely, and hurt. “I guess it's all over now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked stupidly.
Joel kicked at the ground. “Those three men were the Chatsworth gang,” Joel explained. “I guess I better get their horses and get them tied up.”
“Goodness,” I whispered and shook my head. “What a mess this is.”
Joel walked past me and carefully pushed the gun in my hand toward the ground. “You won't need that now,” he said and walked off into the brush to fetch three lost horses.
Four hours later we arrived at the small town of Brown Mills. The ride into town had been very difficult but manageable. Joel had tied the three bodies to three horses and pulled the horses behind his own all the way into town as if it were nothing. But to me, his accomplishment was spectacular—you didn’t see things like this back home. Here I was riding into a strange town sitting behind a gunfighter who had single-handedly taken down three armed and deadly men. I felt proud. Joel didn't seem to feel proud, though. Instead, he appeared tired.
<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>
“Here we are,” he said riding his horse up to a small wooden building that housed a Sheriff's office.
Joel climbed down off his horse and helped me down.
“Thank you,” I said as graciously as I could muster.
“Hotel is across the street,” Joel told me and nodded his head toward a two-story brown building full of lights. The snow was really coming down, making it difficult to see across the street.
“I think I'll stay with you. The Sheriff might have questions.” It was a lame attempt to stay close to this man I was having all sorts of confusing feelings for.
Joel considered my suggestion and then tied up his horse. “Maybe,” he said. “Come on.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the hotel. I was frozen stiff and desperate for a hot meal and soft bed. The snow and icy winds were enough to make a polar bear beg for mercy. What I wanted even more than that meal or bed though, was to be near Joel.
Joel walked up a set of wooden steps that lead up to the Sheriff's office. I followed behind him like a lost puppy wondering why my heart was being tugged toward him so, Joel stopped at a wooden door and waited for me. “Sheriff in this town is a man named Charlie Wilford,” Joel told me in a low voice. “The man is old and hard of hearing, so you will have to talk loud.”
“Sure,” I said and fussed at Joel to open the door. “Hurry up before I turn into a snowflake.”
Joel nodded his head and opened the wooden door. As soon as he did I raced past him into a warm, bright, room filled with dust, old wanted posters, a simple wooden desk, and a blessed wood burning stove. “Heat,” I cried out and ran to the stove.
Joel closed the front door and looked around. “Sheriff Wilford?” he called out.
The sound of snoring coming from an open doorway answered Joel. “The good Sheriff must be sleeping,” I said warming my hands. “Ah, wonderful heat.”
Joel walked to the open door and vanished. A minute later he returned with a frustrated look on his face. “Sheriff Wilford is hibernating,” he complained.
“Warm your hands and calm yourself,” I told Joel.
Joel shook his head and walked over to the wood stove and began warming his hands. Now that we were standing in a lit room I was able to see his face better. Joel obviously wanted to get a better look at me, too. He stared at me with curious eyes. “What?” I asked.
“You remind me of my wife,” he answered in an honest voice. “Melanie had your features. She was a very beautiful woman. She was Spanish.”
“I'm not Spanish,” I told Joel.
Joel continued to warm his hands. “A woman can be beautiful no matter where's she's from. My wife was born in Mexico but was raised in Nevada. She barely spoke her native tongue.”
“I'm sorry your wife is dead,” I told Joel. I reached out and patted his hand. “She would have been very proud of you tonight.”
Joel kept his eyes low. “It's over. Ralph is dead. That's all that matters,” he said and then raised his eyes and looked at me. “I'm sorry I got a little rough with you back there on the trail.”
“I guess I deserved it,” I admitted. “I'm sorry I tried to whack you.”
Joel grinned. “My wife had a temper like yours.”
“Did she have a frying pan to match her temper?” I asked and then smiled. “Just kidding.”
“Well,” Joel confessed, “my wife didn't have a frying pan but she knew how to take a piece of firewood after anyone who didn't come to supper on time.”
I smiled. For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off of Joel's face. There was something in his eyes that seemed to be crying out to me. “You miss your wife, don't you?”
Joel nodded his head. “Yes, I do.”
“You must think I'm silly coming all the way out here from Georgia to marry a criminal?” I asked in an embarrassed voice. “You had, well, real love, and me, I came chasing a stinking skunk.”
“You're a beautiful woman. I'm sure there must have been many men where you come from who would have been happy to ask for your hand in marriage.”
“Aw,” I said and blushed and threw my hand in the air, “the men in my town are more likely to want a wife who will cook them supper on time and wash their socks. Love ain't exactly an ingredient the men in my town understand. This fella I was writing, oh, he wrote me sweet letters full of the sweetest words. I guess I let my mind get carried away with me. I kinda dreamed of finding love in a strange land, like in the books I read,” I admitted sheepishly.
Joel nodded his head. He didn't tease me or make fun of me like some of the men back in my hometown might have. Instead, he continued to warm his hands and talk to me. “Nothing wrong with wanting to find love,” he said and looked down at the wood stove.
“I guess,” I sighed. “Boy, what a mess. My Pa is going to laugh me into an early grave. I don't know how in the world I'm going to face the folks back home. When they find out the truth...oh boy, watch out!”
The sound of the front door opening made Joel go for his gun. A tall, thin, man wearing a heavy gray coat and a thin gray mustache walked into the office. The man spotted Joel and calmly removed a gray hat, exposing neatly combed gray hair. “I see you finally disposed of the Chatsworth gang,” he said.
“Sheriff is sleeping, Judge Connor.”
“Who is the woman?” Judge Connor asked Joel and pointed at me.
“A witness,” Joel explained and put his gun away. “She saw the shoot out on the trail.”
“I sure did,” I said in an amazed voice. “Joel told those three vermin tied up outside to drop their guns, but did they listen? No. They went for their guns and Joel chopped them down.”
Judge Connor nodded his head. “Ralph Middlebrooke gunned down Edward Ross in a fair fight no more than two weeks ago. Edward Ross was one of the fastest gunslingers in the territory. Sam and Willie Chatsworth were skilled gunmen, too.” Judge Connor walked to the wooden desk and sat down. “So, you gunned down all three men single-handedly?” he asked.
“Yes,” Joel answered honestly.
“I see,” Judge Connor replied. The man reminded me of a sleazy snake you found sitting in your garden. There was just something about him that rubbed me the wrong way.
“I saw the fight,” I told Judge Connor feeling my blood turn warm. “Joel took on those three men all by himself and won the fight fair and square.”
Judge Connor stared at me. “You're a very lovely young woman,” he told me. “Where are you from?”
“Georgia.”
“Are all women in Georgia as beautiful as you are?” Judge Connor asked me.
“I may be beautiful, but I ain't blind,” I replied. “I saw this man go gun to gun with three deadly men. And that's the truth of it.”
Judge Connor focused his attention back on Joel. “You were foolish.”
“I know,” Joel admitted.
Judge Connor continued to stare at Joel. “I guess it's over, then.”
“I guess it is.”
I watched Judge Connor stand up. “My daughter deserved better than you,” he told Joel in a cold voice and walked back to the front door. “Four long years...” he said and then, without saying another word, walked out into the cold, snowy, night.
Joel bowed his head. Tears began streaming from his eyes.
The next morning, after eating a warm and delicious breakfast, I found myself outside of the hotel staring at the Sheriff's office. A heavy snow was falling. The small town of Brown Mills was completely white, and, as far as I could see, there wasn't a soul in sight. “Why not?” I asked myself and walked across the street toward the Sheriff's office. I found Joel inside talking to an old man who was broomstick-thin “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Joel said sitting on the edge of Sheriff's desk.
Sheriff Wilford looked up at me, smiled a toothless smile, and then scratched a wrinkled chin that had seen its days of rough trails. “Who is she?” he asked Joel in a loud voice.
“Nola Milton,” Joel replied in a louder voice. “You send that telegram?”
“Yep,” Sheriff Wilford nodded his head. “Sent it over two hours ago. I know how to do my job, boy.”
Joel folded his arms together and looked at me. “You need a thicker coat.”
“I wear what the Good Lord gives me,” I told Joel and closed the front door. “It's not very cold over at the hotel and I don't plan to be outside very much.”
Joel nodded his head. He looked exhausted even though he had rented a room at the hotel the night before. It was clear to me that he hadn't slept a wink. His clothes were wrinkled and his eyes red from either crying or fatigue. “Okay then,” he told Sheriff Wilford, “I guess I'll be over at the hotel if you need me.”
Sheriff Wilford waved his hand at Joel. “You done got your reward money, boy. I've got the bodies. We're square. You can go. I'll let you know when the Federal Marshall gets here.”
Joel stood up and walked to the front door. “Coffee?” he asked me.
“Sure, why not.”
Joel and I were halfway across the street when Joel stopped walking and looked toward the north end of town. He narrowed his eyes and focused on a man sitting on a black horse.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“My wife's brother,” Joel said in a careful voice. “Jose Connor.”
I stared at Jose Connor, wondering if another gun fight was going to erupt on the snowy street. “Let's go have our coffee, Joel.”
Joel shook his head and waited. A minute later the black horse began to move. “Here he comes,” Joel told said and stepped in front of me. “Stay behind me.”
“Okay,” I said feeling my heart begin to race. I watched Jose Connor walk his horse up to Joel and look down at him. The man was huge and had a face that danced with intelligence and raw anger. He stared down at Joel with dark, vicious, eyes that scared the living daylights out of me. How could a man's eyes have so much rage in them?
“You dare show your face?” Jose asked Joel and slapped snow off a thick black coat. “You dare show your face after all the pain you've caused?”
Joel looked up at Jose. Snow was sticking to Jose's black mustache “It's done, Jose. I did what I promised.”
“You did nothing!” Jose yelled and spit at Joel. “You killed my sister! Momma died of a broken heart after my sister was killed. And Papa, what is he now? He's an empty shell!”
Joel kept his eyes on Jose's furious face. “I did what I promised,” he repeated in a calm voice.
“You did nothing.”
Joel watched the snow fall on Jose's black hat and then looked back at the man's face. “When your sister was killed, I was out with a posse hunting Ralph Middlebrooke. No one knew that he had circled back.”
“You should have known!” Jose hollered and spit at Joel again. “You, a lawman, should have known.”
“Where were you?” Joel asked allowing his temper to rise. “Where were you, Jose?”
Jose growled and jumped down from his horse and pushed his coat off the gun sitting on his hip. “You dare ask me such a question?” he asked Joel and placed his right hand down onto the gun.
“I'm not going to fight you,” Joel told Jose.
“You will,” Jose snapped. “Today you die for all the pain you've caused.”
Before Jose could say another word, Joel had his gun out and aimed at Jose's chest. “You die, I live...there's still pain,” he yelled and then threw his gun down into the snow. “You live, I die...there's still pain,” he yelled again.
Jose stared at Joel. His lip began to tremble and then his right hand. “Someday,” he promised and jumped back onto his horse and galloped away out of town.
Joel reached down and gathered his gun. “Sometimes I wish Jose would kill me,” he confessed, putting his gun back in a brown leather holster.
Again, I found myself confused and uncertain what to do or say. I had left Georgia expecting to strike it rich in romance and instead found a broken man. I was a simple woman who owned a bakery and baked bread and cakes. What did I know about matters of the heart? I knew how to wallop Mitch with a broom and chase skunks out of my bakery when needed. I knew how to make my bread dance in the oven and make the sweetest apple pie in the world. I knew how to pick the right peaches and make sure my Papa had his supper on time. But I didn't know anything about love. I was, in truth, a greenhorn when it came to the subject. But, what I did know was that Jesus healed the heart and with Jesus all things were possible. “You ever pray?” I asked Joel.
“Not in a very long time,” Joel said and walked away toward the hotel, leaving me standing out in the snow.
“What a mess, Lord,” I sighed and closed my eyes and let the snow fall on me. Somehow, I wasn't cold anymore. Something was burning deep inside of my heart.
Chapter 3
Matters of the Heart
Joel didn't say much over coffee, but he did compliment the blue dress I was wearing. After that, he wandered back outside and over to the Sheriff's office. I decided not to follow. I spent the rest of the day in my room napping and reading my Bible, trying not to feel foolish. When I looked at myself in the mirror I saw a beautiful young woman that, like Joel, was lonely, heartbroken, and hurt. Why had I really left my home in Georgia and traveled to Nevada? The answered was simple: I wanted to love and to be loved. I wanted to become a wife and have children and raise a family of my own. I wanted to dare and dream the impossible. Instead, I ended up with pie on my face.
I sat down in a brown chair and began combing my hair as night began to fall outside. I felt tears begin to escape from my eyes. I didn't mind the tears. “I guess I'll go back home and not tell anyone anything. I'll just tell Papa that matters didn't work out the way I expected, that's all. Papa will understand; and then he'll laugh me gray.”
I set down my hair brush and wiped at my tears. A hard knock at the door startled me. I expected the caller to be Joel, being that he was the only soul I knew in this God-forsaken place. I quickly stood up and hurried over to the door and opened it. But instead of Joel, I saw Jose. “Mr. Connor,” I said in a shocked voice.
Jose didn't reply. Instead, he reached out and grabbed my right wrist and dragged me out of my room. Terrified I tried to hit him but Jose moved quickly and struck me in the face. After that, it was lights out. All I remember before going unconscious was Jose throwing my body over his sho
ulder. I woke up in a cold room lit only by a small fire. Jose was standing beside the fire with his back turned to me. “Where am I?” I asked as pain struck my head.
“Be quiet,” Jose told me in a low voice.
I tried to move but found that my wrists and ankles were tied together. “You...” I said as my vision began to clear and the room came into focus. I was sitting on a hard, wooden chair next to a dusty table. Cobwebs were everywhere. It was clear that the room had not been lived in for a very long time. “You...”
“Be quiet,” Jose told me again without turning around. “Joel will be here soon and then after I kill him, I will set you free.”
My mind soaked in Jose's words. I began to understand that I was taken captive to be bait and nothing more. “You can't kill Joel,” I said forcing my mind to focus and pay attention. “You didn't have to hit me so hard.”
“I'm sorry,” Jose actually apologized. “I never hit a woman before.”
“Untie me and I'll wallop you a good one,” I promised Jose and struggled against my ropes.
Jose finally turned around. “My sister is in the grave and her husband is chasing women.”
“What?” I asked as if Jose had slapped me in the face again. “Hey now, you just wait just a second there, pal. I met Joel yesterday when the stage let me off in a miserable little town that didn't even have a hotel for crying out loud. Joel was out searching for the Chatsworth gang when he came across me. I was alone and stranded.”
Jose listened to me. “Go on.”
“Joel offered to bring me to Brown Mills. I accepted. But then the Chatsworth gang appeared and Joel went gun to gun with them, all by himself.”
Jose drew in a deep breath. “All by himself, eh?” he asked.
“Yes, all by himself.”
“All by himself against three men?” Jose asked me and shook his head. “Who was with Joel?”
“No one,” I snapped. “Are you thick-headed or something, mister? I'm telling you the truth.”
“No!” Jose yelled. “Joel did not kill Ralph Middlebrooke and the Chatsworth brothers all alone! It's impossible. Ralph Middlebrooke outgunned Edward Ross!”
The Thanksgiving Day Bride: Mail Order Bride Novels Page 29