Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1)

by Julianne MacLean

  The marshal checked his gun for bullets and clicked it shut. “Then let’s go give these ladies some justice.”

  Briggs and George accompanied the marshal into the dark street and walked with him to the hotel. Garrison was finally going to get what he deserved—and Sarah, too. This would clear her of any wrongdoing, and she would be free—free to marry Briggs again, if he had his druthers.

  They approached the front desk clerk. “Evening, marshal,” the man greeted, closing his register book.

  “Evening. I hear you have a guest here by the name of Garrison McPhee.”

  “Garrison McPhee…” He opened the book and ran a long, crooked finger down the last few pages. “I’m sorry. He checked out this afternoon.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Briggs said.

  “He checked out,” the clerk repeated, uneasily. “He was planning on catching an evening train, I believe.”

  George laid his hand on Briggs’s shoulder, as if to restrain him from running out the door in that second. “You mean the one to Caldwell?”

  “I believe so. Said he was going to be with his wife.”

  “Aw, hell,” Briggs uttered. He turned to face George.

  “She didn’t say she was going back to him, Briggs. Based on what she said last night, she despised him more than ever.”

  The marshal removed his hat. “What are you two going on about?”

  George turned to the marshal. “I believe Sarah got on the same train as McPhee this evening, but not by choice.”

  Marshal Peavy scratched under his beard. “Maybe she changed her mind about him?”

  A tremor of irritation shook Briggs. “You’re wrong, Marshal. If she’s with him, it ain’t willingly.”

  The marshal frowned. “You talking about kidnapping?”

  “Yes, sir.” Briggs turned to leave. Somehow, he had to believe that Sarah would never go back to Garrison. No matter how devastated she was by how deplorably he’d treated her. This time, Briggs had to trust her. He only hoped she wasn’t in danger.

  He slammed the door of the hotel and raced down the steps, taking two at a time, crossed the road and climbed into the wagon.

  “Briggs, wait!” George called, running after him.

  “I don’t have time to wait. I have to get to Caldwell before that train does.”

  The marshal approached. “You ain’t gonna make it in that beat up old box.”

  Briggs swallowed, refusing to give up. “It’s all I’ve got.”

  “Why don’t you borrow my deputy’s horse? I’ll take mine. I’ll ride with you to Caldwell, and take McPhee into custody.”

  “You can’t leave me behind,” George said. “I’ll get my horse from home.”

  “Hurry up, then,” Briggs said. “We’re wasting time here.”

  Chapter Thirty

  It seemed she had come full circle. One month ago, Sarah had sat expectantly on a steam train just like this one, watching the Kansas countryside pass by outside the window, wondering what her new life would be like. Now she was doing the same, only this time—this time, her worst fear had become a reality.

  Drained of tears and fighting the harsh pain in her arm, she turned to glance at Garrison beside her. She must pull herself together and be brave. She had to find a way out of this mess and return to Dodge to tell Briggs about the baby. She couldn’t lose hope. Even if he was with Isabelle.

  Garrison stared at the seat in front of them, the tip of his pistol nudging her in her side. “My God, this part of the country is monotonous,” he sighed, shifting to make himself more comfortable. “Nothing but grass. Miles and miles of it.”

  “I think it’s magnificent,” she said, refusing to look at him.

  “Magnificent! Trust me, you’ll be glad to see civilization once we get there. Though for now, I should think we’ll end up somewhere in Texas. If nothing else, I admire the spirit of gambling out here.”

  “I thought you wanted to go back to Boston.”

  He shook his head. “Too many bad memories. We need a fresh start.”

  Sarah closed her eyes, feeling utterly wretched. “You can’t make the memories go away. A different city won’t erase the past.”

  His expression softened with his perfected mask of affection. “I know what happened between us was unpleasant, Sarah, but—”

  “I’m not talking about us. I’m talking about what happened to me. I love another man, and nothing you say or do will change that.”

  She winced as Garrison jabbed the barrel of his gun into her ribs. “I told you, I don’t want to hear another word about that.”

  She glared at him, her chin rising defiantly. “Just because you don’t hear about my feelings doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  “Hush,” he said through gritted teeth. “You don’t know what you feel.”

  Sarah squeezed her hands into fists. She tried to feel pity for this man who knew nothing of real love, but it was hopeless. Garrison would never receive her pity. Not after what he’d done to her life.

  Oh, how would she ever get out of this?

  She sat in silence after that, jostling back and forth with the train’s repetitive, clacking rhythm, thinking of her unborn child and trying not to lose hope.

  * * *

  Briggs, George, and Marshal Peavy galloped into Caldwell the following morning, just behind the arriving train and the black cloud of coal dust that sputtered out the front chimney. The horses were winded and so was Briggs after riding all night with little time to rest. It was the price he would pay for a second chance—a second chance he hoped he would receive.

  The train, chugging ominously into the station, hissed and blew white steam onto the platform. The three men trotted alongside, Briggs standing up in the stirrups to peer in the windows at the passengers milling about in the aisles, picking up their bags. His heart ached with the possibility that Sarah was not even on board. How would he ever find her again?

  The locomotive’s wheels scraped noisily along the rails as it grinded to a halt. Steam shot out again and the brass bell rang as Briggs and the marshal dismounted. After handing the horses over to George, they ran to the back of the train, feet crunching over gravel, and climbed aboard.

  Briggs led the way up the aisle, pushing his way through the passengers already standing. He and the marshal walked through two cars and found nothing, but when they reached the third, Briggs froze, his heart galloping at a frenzied pace. There it was. That familiar purple hat.

  A noise escaped from deep inside his chest. She was here. He’d not lost her.

  Taking an anxious step forward, he remembered that Garrison was supposed to be here, too. He scrutinized the man beside Sarah, and though he could only see the backs of their heads, he recognized that black top hat.

  A new realm of possibilities yawned in Briggs’s face. What if she actually wanted to be with Garrison after everything Briggs had put her through? He’d annulled their marriage. He could only imagine what tales Garrison had told her.

  He felt the marshal’s hand on his shoulder. “Do you see him?”

  Heart racing, Briggs pointed. “Yes, that’s him. Beside Sarah, the lady in the purple hat.”

  Marshal Peavy moved past Briggs. “That’s some hat.”

  He walked up the aisle which had, by now, cleared of passengers, and reached their seat near the front. “Are you Garrison McPhee?”

  Briggs watched from the back, needing to see how Sarah would react. She turned her head to look up at the marshal, her sweet profile revealing full lips parting in surprise.

  Garrison paused, eyeing the marshal’s silver badge. “Yes. Is there a problem?”

  Marshal Peavy reached down and took hold of his arm. “Yes, sir. You’re under arrest. You’ll need to come with me now.”

  Sarah stood up in a panic. “No!”

  A spark of grief ignited inside Briggs. She wanted to protect Garrison?

  In the next instant, he saw clearly what she was yelling about. Garrison had a pisto
l. He pointed it at the marshal and fired.

  Briggs didn’t think. There was no time. As the recoil thundered in his ears, he lunged forward. The marshal fell back into the seats across the aisle. Garrison turned, cocked and pointing the gun at Briggs, who heard Sarah’s cry, muffled as if from a great distance. “Garrison, stop!”

  Briggs reached Garrison before he could pull the trigger and tackled him. They both fell into the aisle. Briggs landed on top and his chin impacted with Garrison’s forehead. Twisting and writhing, Briggs grabbed for the gun. Passengers screamed and yelled. Noise and confusion rebounded off the walls. The barrel of the gun was jabbing into Brigg’s gut.

  Terror mixed with rage coursed through him. His life was hanging on a thread. He grunted as he jerked his hand to turn the barrel away.

  Something clicked. The sound echoed inside his head, and the gun went off.

  Garrison and Briggs stared at each other in bewilderment, then Garrison’s head tipped back and he relaxed on the floor of the train. His eyes fell closed.

  All the chaos and screaming of seconds ago retreated. A hand touched Briggs’s shoulder. He knew that touch. With a start, he scrambled to his feet, realizing he’d been lying on top of a dead man. Sarah took him by the arm and pulled him around to face her.

  “Are you all right?” Her face was pale and tight with worry.

  “I’m fine.” But his hands were shaking.

  A groan sounded from the seat behind them. The marshal—

  They turned, just as George came running up the aisle. “What happened?”

  Briggs leaned over Marshal Peavy. Blood had stained his shirt at the shoulder.

  The marshal’s cheek twitched. “I think I need a doctor.”

  “George, fetch help,” Briggs said.

  White-faced with shock, George ran out. Sarah moved in close and took hold of the marshal’s hand. “You’re going to be fine,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming to my rescue.”

  He blinked a few times, and worked hard to suck in a breath. “You’re welcome. And that’s a very fetching hat, Mrs. Brigman. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.”

  Then the marshal closed his eyes, said, “I think it’s time for me to retire…” and passed out.

  * * *

  After telling their stories to the Caldwell marshal, Sarah and Briggs watched in relief as the doctor took Marshal Peavy away on the back of wagon. Sarah carried her hat in her hand and stepped off the train into the clear light of a sunny day. She breathed in the scent of coal smoke on the air and the familiar animal smells that told her this, like Dodge City, was a cow town.

  Other passengers milled about on the depot platform, and there was a low hum of conversation, undoubtedly about the recent disturbance. She felt Briggs step down behind her, and her heart tightened with longing. She could not turn around. She could not look up at him. She was too afraid to hope.

  George hopped off the last step and stood on the platform. “That was close. You both could have been killed.”

  Sarah finally turned around. Briggs stood tall and strong, his hair resting lightly on his broad shoulders, his expression unreadable. Oh, how she wanted to forget about everything that had gone wrong between them and dash straight into his arms.

  Sarah lowered her head, wanting to tell Briggs about the baby, but not in front of George. What if Briggs already planned to marry Isabelle? What would happen then?

  The three stood in awkward silence for a moment or two, staring at the wood planks beneath their feet. George scratched his head. “Maybe I’ll go check on the horses.”

  Briggs called after him. “Check the train schedule, too, George.”

  “Will do.”

  Sarah felt her hopes die a little. Perhaps he meant to see her off.

  All of a sudden, Briggs wrapped his hand around her good elbow and led her around the side of the building. “Where are we going?”

  Stopping by the depot wall, he faced her, taking both her shoulders in his firm grip. “Just now, when you told the Caldwell marshal you never intended to leave Dodge with Garrison, that you wanted him out of your life for good—was that true?”

  She gazed up at him, seeing the concern in his eyes, the tension in his forehead. Fighting the urge to reach up and smooth away those deep lines, she answered, “Of course it’s true. I told you before. I don’t love him.”

  “I was afraid you might have chosen to leave town with him.”

  She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

  Briggs shut his eyes. “When I think what could have happened if we hadn’t caught the train when we did.”

  “But you did catch it,” she said, “and everything is fine now.”

  Slowly, he opened his eyes. Her gaze met with his, steady and unyielding. What was he feeling? she wondered, her stomach rolling with doubts and nervous knots. She had to know. She had to know before she told him about the child she was carrying.

  She parted her lips to ask, but her words were cut short. His mouth came down upon hers, hard and wet with desire. Her head began to whirl. He swept her off the ground and into his arms, into the place that had become a fantasy these last agonizing hours. Feeling his warm tongue mingle with hers, she moaned with pleasure.

  He broke away and gazed into her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”

  All the possible meanings contained in that single statement swam in her head. “Sorry for what?”

  He shook his head, lowering it, as if in shame. Was he saying he was sorry to hurt her, sorry for going back to Isabelle? Or was it something else?

  “I’m sorry for not believing you about Garrison. I should have been able to trust you, and I should have been able to trust my heart, because I believe it always knew you were a good person. Even if you made mistakes in the past—we all have. But when we learn from our mistakes, we become stronger and wiser, less likely to make them again.”

  Still uncertain, Sarah tried to find the right thing to say. “It’s not your fault. I should have trusted you, too. If I’d told you everything from the beginning, things might have turned out differently.”

  “You had every reason to keep things secret from me,” he said. “I was impossible in the beginning. I shut you out when you needed me.”

  Tears formed on her lashes when she blinked, glistening, blurring her view of the man before her. She wiped at her eyes, striving to focus on him.

  “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “But I think we were right to annul the marriage. When we spoke our wedding vows, they meant nothing.”

  In that moment, hearing those words, Sarah’s heart broke in two. Grasping for strength and dignity, she took a deep breath and held on. Was he about to tell her he still loved Isabelle?

  “All aboard!” the conductor called.

  Harnessing all the courage she could find, Sarah posed the question directly. “Are you going to marry Isabelle now?”

  His head drew back, as if she had swung a punch at him. “Isabelle? I don’t want Isabelle.”

  “But she came to visit you.”

  Panic whisked across his face. “Yes, she did, and I drove her straight back to town.”

  Sarah stared at him, afraid to believe it.

  “She wanted to work things out and reconcile,” he explained, “but I told her….”

  Sarah touched his face with her hand, forcing him to look at her, forcing herself to look into his eyes. “You told her what?”

  “I told her that I loved you. And that I always would.”

  “All aboard!” the conductor called again.

  “But the annulment,” Sarah almost cried. “You just said we did the right thing.”

  He cupped her face in his large, warm hands and laughed. “Yes, I’m glad we annulled it, because the second time around, our vows will mean something.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but this time, they were tears of joy and hope. “What did you just say?”

  He dropped to one k
nee, holding her hand, kissing it again and again. Then he wrapped his arms around her hips, pulled her against him, and buried his face in her skirts. “I love you, Sarah. Please, marry me. For real this time.”

  Wonder and rapture flooded through her. She, too, dropped to her knees, drove her fingers through his thick hair and pulled him toward her for a deep, soul-reaching kiss.

  A minute later, the train whistle blew. As it chugged noisily out of the station, hissing and blowing huge clouds of black soot that quickly disappeared on the wind, Briggs and Sarah stared at each other. Sarah felt the hot sun on her cheeks. There was still one last thing to confess….

  “I have something to tell you. But I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

  “No matter what you tell me,” he replied, “I could feel nothing but happiness at this moment.”

  She appreciated his reassurance, but couldn’t help feeling shaky. “I found out today that I’m….I’m…”

  How could she say it? What if Briggs couldn’t accept that the child might be Garrison’s?

  “I’m in the family way,” she said, without further hesitation.

  Briggs stared blankly at her for a moment, and Sarah’s heart stood still.

  “Is it mine?” he asked.

  Something crumpled inside of Sarah. She had hoped, fancifully perhaps, that it would not matter.

  The answer she had to give ripped her heart in two. “I’m not sure.” Ashamed and filled with remorse, she squinted through tears. Six months ago, who would have thought she would ever find herself in this predicament?

  Head lowered and weeping in silence, she was startled by Briggs’s warm finger under her chin. Gently, he lifted her face, urging her to look at him. His eyes were filled with tears.

  “Sarah, I will love this child more than any father ever could. No matter what the future brings.”

  Her body shuddered with a sob. “Oh Briggs, I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry?” he bellowed, laughing. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world.”

  Sarah drew back in dismay. After everything she’d done, after all the lies, how could she be so blessed? “I love you,” she said.