The Outlaw Bride

by Sandra Chastain

  Josie poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the other side of the table. “Are you well?”

  He nodded and took another bite of his biscuit.

  “And your people?”

  Bear Claw grunted.

  Finally, when her patience was stretched to a fine thread, he put down his cup and let out a loud burp. “Good.”

  “Do you have news?”

  “Missing white man ride in wagons with Men of White God.”

  “You found Ben Callahan?” Josie exclaimed. “How do you know this, Bear Claw?”

  “Followed man’s tracks. Wagon stopped. Tracks gone. Man in wagon.”

  “You’re sure it’s the right man?”

  He grunted and stood. “Right man. Hurt, but he lives.”

  Josie watched her mother’s old friend leave and ran to the bedroom to inform Callahan.

  But that plan was taken out of her hands as Sheriff Spencer appeared in the courtyard with a man driving a wagon, cushioned and padded with blankets.

  “I’ve come for my prisoner,” he told Josie as he marched through the house toward Callahan’s bedroom, the driver of the wagon behind him. His stride said he expected a fight over his announcement.

  “He isn’t ready to be moved yet.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Will interrupted. “I can’t leave Callahan out here. The ranchers are getting restless. I don’t know what they might try, so until I get to the bottom of it, I’m taking him to jail. That’s the only way he’ll be safe.”

  Josie swallowed her retort. She knew he was right. “I won’t try to stop you, Will,” she said. “I’ll send some medication with you if you’ll treat his wounds and change his dressings.”

  Will looked at her in disbelief. “You will?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d get him some regular clothes.”

  Will reached her bedroom, caught sight of Callahan in the nightshirt, and burst out laughing. “I think regular clothes might be a good idea. I’ll send for some when I get him locked up.”

  “Now, just a minute,” Callahan protested. “I’m not going to jail. You can’t prove I’ve done anything except get shot. I’ve got to find my brother. Josie, you’re my attorney, do something!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do much until the trial. But without a witness or the money, they can’t prove you’re guilty.”

  He stared at her, his gaze filled with disappointment. “It isn’t me I’m worried about. If I go to jail, Ben could die.”

  Josie saw the anguish in his eyes, and she knew she couldn’t keep the truth from him. “Your brother has already been found,” she said. “I was on my way to tell you.”

  “Found?” Will said sharply. “Where?”

  “Bear Claw tracked him to the wagon trail north of here. He must have crossed paths with a missionary train that came by about a week ago.”

  “Then he’s still alive,” Callahan said, relief obvious in his voice.

  Will frowned. “I’ll send a telegram to the officials along the way and have them take him into custody. Then, as soon as I calm the ranchers, I’ll go after him and the money.”

  “I’m going with you,” Callahan said, poising himself for action. “I don’t care what you say. There’s something wrong or Ben would have come back.”

  Will pulled Callahan’s arms behind him and tied his wrists together, then motioned for his deputy to help. Together, they carried him to the wagon, with Josie following.

  “Maybe Ben just wanted it all,” Josie speculated.

  “You don’t know my brother,” Callahan said.

  Josie didn’t argue. She watched as they placed the agitated Callahan in the wagon. He’d seemed to calm down once he was tied up. But Josie had seen Callahan play possum before, and she thought he might be up to something. Then she saw perspiration bead up on his forehead and knew his body wasn’t ready, even if his spirit was.

  “Be careful with him, Will,” she said.

  “I intend to,” Will answered, and laid his rifle across his saddle horn.

  As the wagon rolled out of the courtyard and down the road, a feeling akin to sadness settled in Josie’s chest, and she wondered if she’d done the right thing. And if she would ever see Sims Callahan again.

  Josie leaned against the post at the front door and watched.

  Behind her, Lubina’s voice cut through the silence. “I heard the two of you in the courtyard. It es good that he es gone.”

  Josie felt the heat of embarrassment flood her face. She kept her gaze on the wagon, a speck on the horizon now.

  “Dr. Annie and Mr. Dan will be back in a few days, and everything will be like it was,” Lubina said firmly.

  “No, it won’t. Nothing will ever be the same again, Lubina.”

  The housekeeper came to stand beside Josie. “You saved his life. That makes a bond between two people stronger than we can know.”

  “I was thinking about what you said the other night, Lubina, something about a black-and-white horse that came to take Callahan to another place. But it wasn’t the horse that took him away. It was Will.”

  Lubina sighed. “Señorita, I truly believe that it was the ghost horse who came. The Indians say that it always claims a soul. It’s just that sometime the person doesn’t die. Maybe the Indians are wrong. Maybe it returned a soul to a man without one.”

  Could Lubina be right? Everything in her life had been leading Josie to this moment—her past, her meeting Dr. Annie, and her schooling. But nothing had prepared her for the confusion. She didn’t have to be with this man to know the need was there. Now the man was gone—but she was having trouble dealing with the aftermath.

  “My grandfathers,” Josie said quietly, “believe that sometimes a person has to accept what fate sends them. I guess I’ve always done that, but I’m just now understanding that there are some things I have no control over.”

  She thought about the two rascals she’d learned to love and knew that they’d been trying to teach her a life lesson. Both her grandfathers went straight for what they wanted and knew how to get it. If fate didn’t provide, they gave fate a hand. She knew they’d want her to do the same thing.

  Three days later Will Spencer propped his booted foot on the brass rail of the saloon called Two Rails and a Mirror. He looked past the bartender to the spidery reflection of himself.

  “Hello, Sheriff Spencer.” Ellie Allgood leaned on the counter next to him and smiled.

  “I thought you had quit this job, Ellie.”

  Ellie tried not to flush. “I quit entertaining men. Now I just serve drinks. I wanted to thank you for asking Miss Miller to defend me, but you haven’t been in. I hear you’ve been busy trying to find some missing money.”

  “I think it’s with a missionary train heading for Oregon, but I haven’t been able to find it. Apparently the wagons left the main trail, and the rain has washed away any tracks. I finally had to ask the army for help in the search. How are things around here?”

  “Everything’s uneasy since the townsfolk heard Miss Miller is defending your prisoner. You sure he’s guilty, Sheriff Spencer?”

  “I don’t know. He and his brother were the last ones with the money. One brother is wounded and the other vanished with the saddlebags. It’s up to the judge to decide.”

  “Josie doesn’t think he’s guilty. She’ll get him off,” Ellie said, with new confidence that made Will give her a second glance.

  “Josie wants to prove to everyone that she’s as good at practicing the law as her mama is at doctoring,” Will said, frustrated. “She’s going to be the death of Dr. Annie yet.”

  Ellie sighed. She didn’t have to ask him why he was so cross. Everyone knew Will had been sweet on Josie Miller ever since he came to Laramie—everyone but Josie. But Will was just as blind, Ellie thought. Will never noticed her either.

  She hadn’t worried too much about her life, but since the trial she’d begun to look at herself differently. If what she’d heard about Josie Miller’s past wa
s true, then she, too, could change professions and become respectable. She’d quit entertaining men in her room, and she’d started changing the way she dressed, but her reputation was marred in Laramie. She’d returned to serving drinks in the bar. But that was as far as she’d go. The only way to change her future was to separate herself from the past. So far she hadn’t really found a way to do that.

  “Funny thing about the younger Callahan,” Will said. “Folks in Sharpsburg never thought Ben had it in him to run off with the money, but he got away with it—so far.”

  “So far,” she agreed. “But you won’t know the truth until you find him.”

  “And so far I haven’t managed to do that. The people of Laramie are going to start asking what kind of sheriff I am.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “You’re an honest one. One the good people like and the bad ones fear. Everyone knows that, Will.”

  “Maybe I need to make you my deputy, just to remind me of the obvious.”

  “Maybe you do.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t ask for much pay.”

  “How much would you ask for?”

  “A dinner now and again, away from here.”

  “I think Laramie can afford that.”

  “Deal.” She held out her hand for a shake.

  Will took it in his, and she felt his grip tighten.

  “Thanks, Ellie,” he said. “You really are a good person.”

  He started out the door, stopped and turned. “About that dinner, I was thinking that the hotel would be a nice place for a meal. Would you mind if Josie came along?”

  7

  “Do I know you?”

  He was just waking up—though this could be a dream. Nothing seemed familiar, not even the woman leaning over him. She was young, small, with a heart-shaped face and sun-kissed skin. Her eyes, a deep brown, crinkled in concern at the corners, allowing, for just a moment, a hint of what might be called fear.

  After a long silence that seemed to signal the waging of some kind of internal war, she answered softly, “I guess you don’t remember.”

  “Remember?” All he could remember was pain. Every breath was sheer torture. His chest hurt. His ribs hurt. But mostly, his head hurt.

  He glanced around. They were inside a small confined place with little light. At the end of their shelter he could see the night sky, glittering with stars, and below it the suggestion of a campfire. He was in a wagon.

  She wiped his face, as though he were a child and she the parent. But he wasn’t a child. He was a man. He reached up, catching her arm, pulling it down on his chest—not because it was his intention, but because he hadn’t the strength to hold it up.

  “Tell me,” he whispered. His voice was graveled and strained. His tongue seemed to fill his mouth, making it difficult to talk. “Why? How did I get here?”

  “You were hurt, Jacob. I found you in the mountains north of Laramie, in Wyoming. Then Brother Joshua Willis came along and said that it wouldn’t be Christian to leave us stranded, so … well, we’re … here.”

  “You called me Jacob?” he asked.

  “You have to have a name. I couldn’t go on caring for a man without one. I gave you a name I … I like.”

  The woman flinched. He glanced down and realized he was still holding her arm. He let go, but the colorless imprints of his fingertips remained. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You are forgiven. You’ve had a bad time, Jacob. You were half dead when I found you. You had a black eye and your face was badly bruised. I believe you were beaten.”

  He flexed his muscles, moving his legs cautiously. They were stiff, but seemed to work all right. Next came his arms. Functional. It was when he attempted to lift his head that he found the source of his greatest injury. His head felt like a huge egg, a heavy cracked egg. If he moved, it would break into a million pieces.

  “How long ago?”

  “Five days,” she answered. “Would you like some water?”

  He tried to nod but found it less painful if he remained still. “Yes.”

  She lifted a cup and a reed, studied him for a moment, then placed the reed into the cup and sucked water into it. Next she covered the top of the reed with her finger to trap the liquid before she inserted it into his mouth.

  The water was tepid, but he thought it was the most welcome thing he’d ever experienced. Considering he had no memory of the past, that probably meant very little.

  Twice more she drew up water and dribbled it into his mouth. “Enough?”

  “Yes.”

  She pulled a muslin sheet over him and tucked it beneath his chin. “You should rest.”

  She started to move away.

  “Wait!”

  “Yes?”

  “Your name?” he whispered.

  “I’m Rachel,” she answered.

  “Where are the others?”

  Tiny worry lines wrinkled her brow. “You mean the other travelers? They’re in their wagons.”

  “And your husband?”

  She averted her eyes. “I don’t have one … any longer. He’s passed on.”

  There was something wrong with her answer. He didn’t know yet what it was. Then it came to him. “You found me? You took me into your wagon when you didn’t even know me?”

  She waited a long time before she answered. “I didn’t have to. I always knew you would come.”

  She didn’t know him, but she had been expecting him? Nothing made any sense. Suddenly he felt a cold rush of fear, as if he were stumbling through icy water, being sucked down by a current he could neither see nor touch. As he tried to line up his thoughts, a feeling of urgency swept over him. There was somewhere he had to be. “I thank you, ma’am, for taking me in and caring for me. But I have to get back home.” He had to—

  “Where is your home, Jacob?”

  He started to answer, then realized that he didn’t know. “I … I’m not sure. I can’t seem to remember. I don’t know. I don’t know who I am.”

  “You’re Jacob,” she said softly. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Why? Why are you doing this? Why were you expecting me?”

  “Because I prayed for a good man. And God sent you.”

  Josie walked into the Laramie City jail in the middle of the afternoon. She hadn’t wanted to come, but after three days of assuming that Will was changing Callahan’s bandages, she knew it was time for her to resume some responsibility for her patient. Now he was her client.

  The town jail had started out as a store with two windows on the front. Dr. Annie had insisted that they be opened in the heat of the summer, so they’d covered the windows with bars. But the bars didn’t keep people from looking in. From the sidewalk she could see Will Spencer. He sat in a rickety chair, his back to the street, his feet crossed at the ankles and resting on his desk.

  She entered the open door, walked past him, and stood outside the only cell. Will snored lightly, his head leaned against the crude log wall behind him.

  Callahan sat on his cot with his back against the far wall, watching her.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “About as well as you could expect, considering I’m shot to hell and in a jail cell.”

  His reply made her feel like a schoolgirl. “I meant, how are your wounds?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do. I’m your doctor.”

  “You’re my lawyer, too. Why haven’t you gotten me out of here?”

  Their conversation came in jerky sentences, as if they were strangers, instead of—what were they? He’d kissed her, that was all. No, that wasn’t all. He’d called her darlin’ and he’d touched her—‘loved her,’ he’d said.

  In spite of her past, Josie had never heard anyone talk about a man loving a woman that way, not like Callahan had loved her. She shook off the rush of sensation those thoughts dredged up. He was out of her house now. All that was behind them. She understood he was just a man with manly
needs that he expected to be satisfied. Yet, she was the one whose needs had been satisfied. What, she wondered, did that do to the man?

  “You’re right. I haven’t done my job very well, have I?” Apparently Will had listened to her request and had found Callahan some clothes. He was wearing stiff new Levi’s jeans, a chambray shirt, and scuffed boots. He looked different with clothes on—somehow more distant. And he needed a shave. She made a note to bring a razor and soap the next time she came, and a comb.

  “Dr. Annie will be back soon,” she said. “She’ll be able to evaluate your condition and tell you when you can go.”

  “That’s not the answer I’m looking for,” he growled.

  “Until Judge McSparren gets back, you aren’t going anywhere,” Will said, the heels of his boots thumping the floor. “Afternoon, Josie.”

  Josie wondered how long he’d been awake. “Good afternoon, Will. I’ve come to change Mr. Callahan’s bandages.”

  “Yeah?” he said, eyeing Josie curiously. “Just a minute and I’ll unlock the cell.” He ambled to his feet and, from a nail beside the front door, lifted a ring with two heavy keys attached.

  “Do you really have to lock him up?” she asked.

  “Nah,” Will answered, with a grin. “You wouldn’t run off if I asked you to stay, would you, Callahan?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” Callahan replied dryly. “Would you stay in a cell, Josie?” Callahan asked.

  She felt foolish. She wouldn’t stay in jail. In fact, she hadn’t. On the several occasions when she’d been caught stealing, before she became a skillful thief, she’d played on the sympathy of the law by bawling her eyes out until they sent for her “mama.” Never mind that Mama was dead. Once the policeman left to fetch her mother, Josie would pick the lock on her cell and escape. No, she wouldn’t stay in jail either.

  Will opened the iron door and held it back, his hand resting on his gun. “You can have fifteen minutes with your client,” he said. “I’m going to have to lock this behind you. Just holler when you’re done.”