“Marshal, I don’t know why you’re staring at me like that, but it’s making me mighty nervous.”
His grin grew wider. “Miss Nellie, how fond of this town are you?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make any difference to me where I plant my feet. In fact, Dodge City is getting too wild. Even for me. Why?”
“I have four young women sitting in my jail right now.”
“Four young women? In jail? Marshal Jones, are you crazy?”
He hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and rocked back on his heels. “Probably, but I think I’ve come up with a solution on how to get rid of them and help you at the same time.”
“Why do I think I’m not going to like this?” she groused as he took her by the elbow and hustled her in the direction of the jailhouse.
1
Becky stared through the bars at Marshal Jones and a woman who was obviously not in a line of work suitable for refined ladies. She couldn’t believe her ears. The marshal had just announced the four prisoners would be joining a wagon train to Santa Fe where they would become mail-order brides.
“Marshal, suppose we don’t want to be mail-order brides?” Mrs. Markham’s face had turned frighteningly pale.
Becky would like more than anything to find a husband. Someone to take care of her in exchange for her taking care of him. Then she would know she was sleeping in the same bed, in the same house, in the same town every night. Meals would be on a regular basis, as well.
From the time she’d been a young girl, still secure in the love of her parents, she dreamed of being a wife and having her own home. She would sew curtains, plant flowers, always have fresh bread on the counter, and a hot meal for her husband at the end of the day.
“Weren’t you listening, girl? I said if you don’t join the wagon train and head to Santa Fe to hitch up with a husband, I’ll leave you sitting here until the circuit judge sobers up and arrives in town. I don’t know where the hell he is right now. It could be months before we see his sorry face.”
None of the women seemed too thrilled to be roped into marriage this way, and the poor woman, Adelaide, who said she’d lost a little girl, looked like she was about to pass out.
Miss Miranda, the girl who had killed a man, was the first to speak up. “I’m willing.”
That was no surprise since she was in for murder. Slowly, the other two nodded their agreement to the marshal. When he swung his gaze to Becky, she chewed her lip for a bit and thought about sitting in jail for heaven knew how long compared to possibly having her dream life. “All right.”
The next morning Becky rolled out of bed and walked to the window of the Dodge City hotel room the marshal had rented for the women. She’d shared a bed with the saloon girl all night. After Mindy had removed her makeup and changed from the scanty outfit into a calico dress their chaperone had given her, she looked young and innocent.
They hadn’t spoken much, except for Mindy to tell her that her mother was a whore, and she had no intention of ever earning a living that way. Somewhat taken aback at how casually Mindy had told her that, Becky soon realized she was being tested.
Just as Becky had learned to tell everyone she met that she was only Dr. Snodgrass’s assistant, not anything else. She assumed Mindy did the same thing. It was easier to avoid condemnation if you were the one to bring it out into the open.
Once they were up and dressed, Mindy receive a note that a gentleman was calling for her downstairs. Becky found her way to Miss Nellie’s room and knocked on the door. She was surprised when the former madam opened the door. She was outfitted in a brown-and-white striped dress with her hair braided and wrapped around her head. No one would ever guess she’d been a brothel owner.
“Miss Nellie, do you suppose the marshal can go with me to the Boswick Hotel and get my things? I don’t have all that much, but they won’t give it to me because Dr. Snodgrass didn’t take care of the bill before he left. And I don’t have any money to pay for the room.”
Miss Nellie offered her a warm smile like one a person would expect to receive from a favorite teacher. “You poor dear. I’ll tell you what. I’ll walk with you over to the marshal’s office and ask him myself.” She stepped out in the hall and closed the bedroom door behind her. She took Becky’s arm and winked. “He owes me.”
Miss Nellie chatted about the townspeople as they walked the distance from their hotel to the sheriff’s office. Seeing as how Miss Nellie had lived in Dodge City for a long time, she knew everyone and every piece of gossip. “I’ll tell you what, missy. Get a man out of his pants and into bed, and he’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Becky blushed at the woman’s openness but was forced to admit this trip to Santa Fe with Miss Nellie as a chaperone was going to be quite interesting.
The jailhouse was noisier than a saloon on Saturday night. Marshal Jones stood talking to a large Negro man. Shouts came from the back of the jail where prisoners had taken the space the ladies had occupied the day before.
The caramel-colored man pushed the brim of his hat back with his thumb and rested his hands on his hips. “Marshal, hauling these varmints down to Santa Fe won’t even have me working up a sweat. You just keep ’em here overnight, and I’ll be back for ’em in the morning.”
The marshal shook his head. “I’m telling you this plan of yours is too dangerous. There are families traveling on that wagon train. If you lose control of any one of these men, someone could get hurt.”
The Negro man smiled, turning his features into the handsomest Becky had ever seen. “I ain’t never lost a prisoner in my entire career, sir. And I’m not about to lose one now. If it eases your mind any, they will be traveling in a military wagon, with bars.” He tugged the brim of his hat back down. “Now, I’ll be on my way to get something to eat since I’ve been living on spit and sunshine while I tracked those three. I’ll see you in the morning.”
When he turned to leave, his eyes lit up at Miss Nellie and Becky standing at the door. His piercing blue eyes were quite a contrast to his brown skin. Becky sucked in a breath as he approached them, his hat now in his hand. “Good morning, ladies. I hope I didn’t use any language that offended you. I didn’t see you standing there.”
Even Miss Nellie was mesmerized by the man. He was tall, with a muscular build that stretched the fabric of his shirt and well-fitting pants. His gun belt hung low on his hips, with a pearl-handled pistol snug in each holster.
Miss Nellie was the first one to snap out of the trance the man had put them in. “Good morning to you, too—” she glanced at his badge, “Sheriff.”
He nodded at them both, returned his hat to his head, and left the jail.
“Who was that?” Miss Nellie asked, watching the man’s back as he left the room.
“Sheriff Mace Jensen from Santa Fe. He just rounded up those noisy culprits back there in them cells. They held up a bank in Santa Fe, and Jensen went after them. From what I know of the man, he’s like a dog with a bone when he’s after someone.”
“He is one fine-looking man.” Miss Nellie’s comment was met with Marshal Jones’s scowl.
“Jensen and his prisoners are gonna be on your wagon train. Remember, you’re there to chaperone those women, not to be eying men.”
Miss Nellie’s eyes snapped with anger then she broke into a smile. “Why, Marshal Jones, I believe you’re jealous.”
“I ain’t no such thing.” He fussed with the papers on his desk, not meeting their eyes. “Now, what brings you here, disrupting my jailhouse and gawking at another lawman?”
Miss Nellie’s laugh was deep and had Becky smiling with her. “Marshal, I want to get my things from the Boswick Hotel where Dr. Snodgrass and I had rooms. Since he skipped out on the bill, Mr. Boswick won’t give me my things back. It’s all I have in the world.”
The marshal shook his head. “Snodgrass was a no-good scoundrel. You’re well rid of him.” He nodded to Miss Nellie. “You go with her and tell Boswick to give Miss Da
vidson her things, and I’ll settle up her part of the bill later.”
Becky frowned. “Thank you, Marshal, but I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”
“Don’t worry about it; the town will pick up the tab. Now be off with you. I have citizens to protect.”
She and Miss Nellie set off for the hotel. Low clouds hung overhead, the air chilled, a stark reminder that even though spring had started, it was still a long way until steady warm weather would arrive.
Mr. Boswick scowled as they walked into the hotel lobby. “What do you want?”
Miss Nellie gave the man a bright smile and leaned on the desk. “Now, Mr. Boswick, what kind of a way is that to greet people?”
“You don’t fool me none, Miss Nellie.” He gestured in Becky’s direction. “I know that one wants her stuff out of her room, but I need to get paid.”
“I told you Dr. Snodgrass ran off with all the money.” Hell and tarnation, she knew the money was owed, but how many times did she have to tell him she had none?
Miss Nellie fussed with the man’s necktie, his face growing redder as she stared at him. “Mr. Boswick, that’s all this poor girl has in the world. A little mercy, please.” Pulling back, she said in a more business-like tone, “Besides, the marshal will be here this afternoon to pay her bill.”
Mr. Boswick leered at her. “I’ll take payment another way.”
“Goodness gracious. I’m retired, now. Don’t you know I’m a respectable chaperone?” She wrapped her arm around Becky’s waist. “You go on up and get your things. I’m going over to whatever is left of my business and pack up a few things of my own.” She wagged her fingers at Mr. Boswick, and turning, she left the hotel, hips swinging.
* * *
After a much-needed bath and shave, Mace Jensen, sheriff of Santa Fe County, New Mexico Territory, rubbed his eyes as he sat at a corner table in the café across from the Boswick Hotel. Five days of tracking Dagman and his gang had left him hungry, tired, and smelly. It had been downright embarrassing to meet those two ladies in the jailhouse, stinking the way he had.
He had no idea who they were, but the older one had a look about her that said she’d been around the block a few times while the younger one was all youth and innocence. Lord almighty, had he ever been young and innocent?
Born to a slave and an Irish plantation overseer, he’d been working from the time he’d been able to walk. He’d done everything from hauling water to picking cotton. When he was sixteen, his master’s house burned to the ground, and he was set free.
Since his mother was dead and his father missing for a few years, he set out for the West, where he heard life was better for newly freed slaves. He took a gun off a dead Union soldier along the way and practiced for months, doing odd jobs for money to eat and buy ammunition.
When he felt his ability to handle a gun was good enough, he roamed from town to town seeking work. Most of the jobs he was offered were tracking down outlaws who had escaped the law one time too many. After a while, he’d decided it was better to have one place to hang his hat and took the job as County Sheriff. At thirty years of age, he was proud of his reputation as “the lawman who never gave up.”
He kept his county clean and enjoyed the respect of the Santa Fe townspeople. If there was anything missing in his life, it was a woman. There were several Mexican women who welcomed him into their beds—for a price—but what he craved was the life he’d been denied.
A wife, a real home, and children who he would love and care for. He still lived in the back room of the Santa Fe jail, saving his money to buy a house one day.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He addressed the waitress who placed his breakfast in front of him. A thick slice of ham, eggs, potatoes, grits, flapjacks, and biscuits with gravy. He had a whole lot of eating to catch up on.
It didn’t take long for him to finish his meal. He took a final sip of coffee and wiped his mouth with the red-checkered napkin as he glanced out the large plate-glass window. The young woman he’d seen earlier at the jailhouse was leaving the Boswick Hotel, loaded down with a satchel and two boxes. She’d only gotten a few steps when she dropped one of the boxes.
His impression of Dodge City so far was not a good one, but when two drunken cowboys walked right past her without helping, he shook his head and pushed his chair back. He reached into his pocket and peel off two bills, threw them on the table, then left the restaurant.
“Hey there, little lady, it looks to me like you could use some help.” He strode across the street and hopped up onto the boardwalk where the woman struggled with her burden.
She grimaced. “Yes, I’m afraid I underestimated how much stuff I had in that room.”
He hefted one of the boxes onto his shoulder and with his other hand picked up the satchel by the straps. “If you can grab that smaller box, we can be on our way.”
“Oh, thank you so much.” She pointed down the street. “I’m headed to the Dodge City Hotel.”
He grinned. “Moving from one hotel to another?”
She walked alongside him, dodging dogs, kids, and shoppers. “I’ll be leaving the Dodge City Hotel tomorrow morning. I’m joining the wagon train.”
“You don’t say? I’ll be joining that group myself.” He studied her for a moment. “You traveling with your family?”
Now why did he ask that? It sounded like he was fishing for information he had no right inquiring after. Although, if she did have a family that included a husband and he’d left her to move all these things on her own, he would be sure to speak to the man should they cross paths.
“No.” She shook her head, the dark brown ringlets that had escaped her bun dancing at her face. “Miss Nellie and I—she’s the one I was with this morning at the jailhouse—are going to Santa Fe, along with three other women, to be mail-order brides.”
The surprise at her statement almost had him dropping the box he carried on his shoulder. Why in the good Lord’s name would this beautiful young woman be marrying up with a stranger? She must have men lining up to marry her.
“Why?” He cringed at his boldness. “I mean, with all the men here in town, why would you marry a stranger?”
They came to a halt as a horse and carriage rumbled by. Once it passed, they crossed the street and continued their walk. “That’s what the marshal ordered the other women and me to do.”
“What? He can’t do that. There’s no law on the books that I’m aware of that can force a woman to get married.”
She gave a sigh as they reached the front of the Dodge City Hotel and turned to face him, the box clutched in her arms. “No, there probably isn’t, but I managed to land myself in jail, and Marshal Jones said either join up with the wagon train to Santa Fe as a mail-order bride or sit in jail until the circuit judge shows up.” She turned and had pushed the door open and walked inside the hotel before he processed what she’d said.
The lobby smelled of cigar smoke, dirt, and whiskey. The girl laid the box on a worn-looking couch and turned to him. “If you will just place that here, I will have someone from the hotel carry it up to my room.”
He slid the box off his shoulder and deposited it, and the satchel, next to the other box. “I should have introduced myself before now. I’m Mace Jensen, sheriff of Santa Fe County. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
She smiled and stuck out her hand. “Miss Becky Davidson.”
He took her delicate little hand into his large rough one, feeling like a bear shaking hands with a fairy. “It was very nice to meet you, Miss Davidson.” He tugged on the brim of his hat. “I guess I will see you on the way to Santa Fe, then.”
“Yes. Thank you very much for your help.”
He strode from the hotel, the sound of his boot heels beating a staccato as he made his way down the boardwalk. Either because of his race, size, or general appearance, most people moved out of his way, clearing a direct path to the jailhouse.
“Marshal, what gives you the right to force women to marry str
angers?” He knew the minute he opened his mouth he should have stayed out of it. But something about that woman had his stomach in knots. She seemed so young. And innocent.
The marshal looked up from his desk where he was filling out reports. “I gave them a choice. Jail or the wagon train. They took the smart one.”
“But you don’t know that things will be better for them.”
“Well, you tell me, Mr. Big Time Sheriff of Santa Fe County. You’ve been through Dodge City before. Are they better off sitting in jail here or under the care and protection of a husband?”
Mace spread his feet apart and rested his hands above his gun belt. “Depends on the husband.”
Marshal Jones stood and grinned, causing Mace to narrow his eyes. Slapping him on the back, the marshal said, “Glad you said that, Jensen. I hereby put the custody and well-being of Miss Becky, Miss Nellie, Miss Cinnamon, Miss Adelaide, and Miss Miranda into your hands. Have a good trip.”
2
Becky pulled on the stubborn mule’s harness and cursed, using the fine words Dr. Snodgrass always used to get his horses moving. Lord, hopefully, no one heard her. She hadn’t been raised to use such language, but after four years with Dr. Snodgrass, the words seemed to fly from her mouth.
“Maybe if you rubbed his back or something.” Miranda, who was trying to get the other mule to move as well, shared the very unhelpful information.
“Miranda, we don’t have time to make nice with the animals; we need to get started.” Miss Nellie sat on the wagon seat, slapping the two donkeys with the reins, sweat beading on her forehead.
They hadn’t even left Dodge City yet, and already they couldn’t get control of the animals and the wagon. Since both Adelaide and Mindy had already found husbands, the two of them, along with Miss Nellie, had just finished packing everything they owned into the wagon that would take them to Santa Fe for a new life.
Prisoners of Love Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 22