Boone’s black eyes churned as deadly and dangerous as the spout of a tornado. “I wasn’t going to hurt him.”
“No one said otherwise,” Ty said calmly, continuing to hold Seth in a firm grip.
Seth stabbed at his bruised cheek. “He clocked me in the eye already.”
Boone bristled. “I’d never punch a kid.”
“Liar!” Seth spit back.
“Ty, you know me better than anyone.” Boone said.
Ty studied Boone for a long moment. “I believe you.”
Giving off icy hostility, Boone called Jack back to his side and returned to stirring the kettle of oats.
Seth tried to twist away, but Ty pulled the boy in tighter to his shoulder. “I believe you owe Miss Ella an apology for your bad manners.”
Seth’s quivering lip firmed. “I hate you and I hate her.”
“No one is asking you to like anybody, but you will treat Miss Ella with respect,” Ty said, remaining amazingly patient.
Seth glared in the direction of the distant mountains. “I need to relieve myself before I pi—”
“Watch your mouth,” Ty warned, and set the boy at arms’ length. “Don’t take too long. We’ll be on our way shortly.”
Seth trudged away and disappeared behind the nearby bushes.
Ty rubbed his neck. “I’m gonna go check on the horses.”
“I like you just fine, Miss Ella,” Billy said, leaking fresh tears.
Ella put her arm around Billy, even though she shouldn’t. It wasn’t right to allow the boy to become attached to her when her stay at the ranch would be temporary. “Ty will take good care of you, so don’t worry yourself on that account.”
Billy sniffled loudly. “I want to be a cowboy like Mr. Ty when I grow up.”
From all Ella had seen of Ty she shared Billy’s admiration. Ty Haven was a man who would be loyal unto death to those he loved and cared for. Why did that sound lovely and inviting?
***
Fifteen minutes later, when Seth still hadn’t returned, Ella’s breakfast sat heavy in her stomach.
Ty tramped back into the campsite and joined Ella, Boone, and Billy around the smoldering remains of the fire. “I followed Seth’s tracks in a wide circle around our camp. He’s heading east.”
“I’ll go find him,” Boone said irritably, retrieving his six-shooter and black cowboy hat.
Ty shook his head, then hoisted his saddle. “It’s best I go…he’s afraid of—”
A cry of alarm rang out in the distance.
“Seth’s run into trouble,” Boone called over his shoulder, weaving through the scrubby brush, Jack bounding beside.
Ella scrambled to her feet. “What do we do?”
Ty glanced in the direction Boone and Seth had gone, then back at her. “Boone might need more firepower.”
Billy clung to her side. She waved Ty on. “Go! We can take care of ourselves.”
Ty dropped the saddle and charged off.
“I feel sick,” Billy wailed into her skirt. “I’m going to puke.”
She smoothed his messy hair. “Bend over and take deep breaths, and I’ll find you something to soothe your stomach.”
Glad for the distraction, Ella inspected tins of food, searching for biscuits or something equally bland to feed Billy. “Breathe through your nose,” she advised, tugging on a stubborn lid. The cover released in a whoosh and strips of pungent beef jerky spilled to the ground. “Clumsy ninny,” she cried, parroting Miss Bonnell.
Her satchel…she had biscuits in her satchel. She raced to the brown, battered bag, unbuckled the latch, and her throat closed. The satchel weighed nothing. She searched and searched, but Granny Bessie’s Colt Walker was gone.
The sound of pounding feet had her turning around. Seth stumbled into camp gasping for air and holding Granny’s gun. “Bear! A bear was chasing me.”
She willed herself to speak slowly and calmly. “Bring me the gun and I will fire it to call Ty and Boone back.”
Seth ran to her and collapsed into her arms. “I tried shooting the bear, but your crappy gun wouldn’t fire.”
Cursing the finicky nature of the weapon, she relieved Seth of the Walker, and carefully placed it back inside the satchel. She just had to hope Ty and Boone would return sooner rather than later. Of course, it meant she’d have to explain the Colt Walker. She arched a brow at Seth. “How did you manage to steal my gun without my noticing?”
Looking guilty and miserable, Seth shrugged. “I—”
“Miss Ella,” Billy cried bursting into fresh tears.
Glad to be dealing with a crying child rather than a vomiting one, she held out her arms for Billy, and spotted a grizzly bear the size of a house lumbering toward the boy.
Claw-like fear gripped her.
Frozen in place, Billy bawled. Grunting irritably the bear paused, sizing Billy up.
She waved her arms. “Bear! Look at me, bear!”
The grizzly’s big head swung toward her, his large snout sniffing the air, small, round, glittering eyes studying her.
Ella grabbed a discarded tin and cover, and, her heart rapping hard enough to crack ribs, she banged them together. “Go away, bear.”
Sniffing the air with greater intensity, the bear turned back to Billy, who was standing in the midst of the beef jerky littering the ground.
Ella jumped between Billy and the bear. “Back away slowly,” she told Billy, praying the boys didn’t run away in a panic.
Loud barks filled the air, and Jack dashed back into the campsite. Ty and Boone came crashing out of the brush behind the dog, and skidded to a halt.
Jack nipped at the bear’s hind leg. The grizzly swatted at Jack with a massive paw. The dog yipped and circled to Ella’s side.
The bear reared up and a black and brown wall of fur filled her vision.
“Stand your ground, Ella,” Ty said, his voice steady and reassuring. “He’s assessing the danger, trying to get a better look at you.”
“Me, a danger?” she squeaked.
Jack growled menacingly and snapped at the bear.
The bear roared his displeasure, its hot, angry breath hitting Ella’s face like a blast from a forge. She cringed and covered her ears. “Don’t move, don’t move” she whispered, trembling from head to toe.
Then a loud crack sounded, followed by two or three more echoing booms. The bear turned around, slammed down on all fours, and galloped away in a rippling mass of fat and muscle.
Revolver held pointed to the sky, Ty was wreathed in smoke.
Jack tore after the bear, disappearing into the bushes. Boone gave an ear-piercing whistle and Jack ran back into the camp.
The danger past, Ella’s legs turned to jelly.
Ty’s strong arm circled her and his warm mouth moved against her hair. “That’s the bravest thing I’ve witnessed in quite some time.”
She buried her face in his chest. “I wasn’t brave, I was frightened.”
His heart was beating as hard as hers. “I’ve faced down a bear or two and been scared half to death.”
Comforted by the confession, she smiled at Billy, who was pressed up tight to her and Ty. “Billy didn’t run either.”
The boy brushed at his eyes. “Miss Ella would have fought off the bear to save me and Seth.”
Ty’s wide hand stroked her back. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” Ty said, admiration and concern mixed in his voice. “Are you wishing you were going to some place safer than Sweet Creek?”
Ella swallowed. “No bear is going to scare me off.”
Granny Bessie and the Nancy Harts would be proud of her courage in facing down the grizzly. They would tell her to march ahead undaunted, but the rugged dangers of Wyoming Territory were as foreign as the moon. And the threat of grizzly bears presented a gigantic reason to rethink her plan to travel alone through the Wyoming back-country after she took back Johnny’s saber.
She forced hers
elf to break away from the comforting safety of Ty’s arm. “I just need time to recover from the shock.”
“Where were you running off to?” Boone growled, stalking over to Seth.
The boy lifted a defiant chin. “I can take care of myself.”
Boone gripped Seth’s shoulders and examined him for injuries. “For a smart boy, you sure don’t use your head. What were you thinking, taking off through grizzly country without a gun?”
Seth glanced at her.
She took a deep breath, prepared to get the confession over quickly.
Seth winked as if they were coconspirators, then jerked out of Boone’s grasp. “I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
Ella rubbed her chilled arms and kept her lips sealed. Entering an unspoken alliance with Seth might not be wise, but it was better than Ty learning about the Colt Walker.
Ty pushed a strip of beef jerky toward Jack who was sniffing through the discarded tins. “I promised Miss Ella she’d sleep in her new home tonight.”
The thought of a bed to sleep in and a roof over her head sounded glorious. Even if it meant living in tight quarters with Ty Haven. What was the worst that could happen? A month at Sweet Creek Ranch couldn’t possibly pose anywhere near the danger of an angry bear.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sight of Sweet Creek Ranch in the distance filled Ty’s heart with pride and contentment. The Bighorn Mountains’ jagged, snowcapped peaks stood like sentries over a meadow nestled by majestic ponderosa pines. Smoke curled from the chimney of the sprawling clapboard ranch house. A beam of sunshine lit the weathered boards of the sturdy barn and attached sheds. Completing the little piece of heaven was the silvery ribbon of the creek, wrapping bow-like around the ranch on its meandering path south.
After five hours spent in the saddle, negotiating the trail from the dusty plains to the rocky foothills, Ty was doubly glad to crest the final ridge. He petted Eclipse’s white mane, brought the black and white pinto stallion to a halt, and turned in the saddle.
A smile curved Ella’s pretty rosebud lips as she gazed at the ranch.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She rode up beside him. “My bum is sore.”
He laughed. “I meant the ranch.”
“You weren’t fooling when you said you lived out of the way.”
“Did you think I was bringing you to the far end of the world?”
Her cornflower blue eyes clouded. “Do you have neighbors?”
“Beau Blackwell’s summer place is five miles east. After that the closest ranch is another fifteen miles away. Most folks think we’re foolish to stay up here year round.”
She drew her raven-black braid over her shoulder, brushed her chin with the shiny tail, and surveyed the landscape. “The quiet beauty makes my heart sing. Does it make your heart sing, Mr. Haven?”
A community band, boasting a tuba and kettledrum, might well have taken up residence in his chest for the jolt of life and hope surging inside. “You’re supposed to call me Ty. I’m your husband, remember?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I remember.”
The balloon of joy bursting, Ty ground his teeth. She liked the ranch fine, but she wasn’t nearly as impressed with him. “Let’s go meet the rest of the family.”
“Your home appears large enough.”
“It’s your home now.”
“Will you be able to accommodate three more people?”
They were back to her concern over the sleeping arrangements. This waiting a month deal was going to be sheer torture. “I’ll move out of my room tonight.”
“I don’t want to chase you from your bedroom.”
“But you don’t want to share the room, either.”
She studied her feet. “You probably wished you’d picked a different mail-order bride.”
His terror when he’d raced back to the camp and seen the grizzly looming over her and the way she had clung to him afterward made him want to take a six-shooter to anyone or anything aiming to harm her. He wanted her here with him, safe and sound in the home he loved.
She was as jittery as an unbroken colt, but he’d never come across a horse he couldn’t win over. “I’m not sorry a bit. Well, I am mighty sorry you have a sore bum. Would you like to walk the rest of the way?”
She shot him a look of relief. “Could we?”
He slid out of the saddle and helped her off of Old Nellie.
“It’s rather annoying. You not being a bit sore,” Ella said, stretching gingerly and wincing.
He didn’t like the appearance of the fast-moving storm clouds gathering overhead. “I’d volunteer to carry you, if I didn’t think you’d stomp on my foot for suggesting it.”
Her step quickened. “I’m glad to see we understand each other perfectly.”
“Stubborn woman,” he mumbled.
Leading the horses, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was as petite and pretty as the blue-flowered teacup he’d given her. Both seemingly unsuited to the daily life of a rough-and-ready ranch. Undoubtedly, he and his brother and the second-chance boys would benefit from the addition of such beauty and refinement. But the tiring, difficult work on a ranch wore men and women down, aged them prematurely. He’d do all he could to spare her. If she’d allow it. Problem was, she didn’t think of herself as delicate and frail. No, she’d handled the long trip with grace and fortitude and faced danger like a brave Indian maiden. Holy smoke. There was an image sure to fire his dreams.
Jack bounded past, barking his head off, a furry yellow streak of happy dog, and Boone galloped by on his black stallion, heading for the barn.
Eclipse and Old Nellie pranced at the ends of their bridles. Ty released his hold on the reins. Tails flying like flags, the horses galloped after Boone.
“My satchel,” Ella yelped, then frowned at him. “Why’d you do that…what if they run off?”
Snow spit from the black clouds. A slick of wet cold slid down his neck. “They won’t, if they know what’s good for them. Don’t worry none about your satchel, one of the boys or Boone will fetch it.”
“I’m not worried.”
She was, but he’d rather wrangle a rattlesnake than start another argument over the blasted satchel.
Ella reached her hand out to catch the twirling fat flakes. “The first snow of the year is always exciting.”
Tempted to kiss the perfect white crystals clinging to her long lashes, he raised his collar and examined the sky. The icy air smelled of winter. “The clouds moved in quick. Could be a good blizzard’s blowing up.”
“A blizzard this early in the year? Christmas is still a month away.”
Happy with the notion of being snowed in until April or May with Ella, he hoped she would take the news well if the storm took a bad turn. “The snow can’t come too early for our herd.”
Reaching hailing distance of the ranch house, he followed Ella across the weathered footbridge sitting opposite the front door. The bridge wasn’t wholly necessary—most of the time the narrow banks could be traversed with a long leap—but Pa Malcolm had said Ma Viola put up with enough inconveniences on the rustic homestead without having to jump over the creek whenever she went out to gather wild nuts, berries, and healing plants.
The new mission-style door Ty had built before leaving the ranch for Aurora swung open, and Wyatt stepped out onto the low-slung veranda, smiling and waving. The two second-chance boys currently residing at the ranch barged out the door. Boone called for Garrett and Ox to lend a hand with unsaddling and watering and feeding the horses.
The boys shot curious looks at Ella, but thinking better of disregarding an order from Boone, they hightailed it to the barn. Boone rounded up Seth and Billy as well.
Wyatt leaped over the railing and set about kicking empty milk buckets off the path to the porch.
Ella slowed. Ty itched to hold her hand, which was a far better alternative to strangling Wyatt. Mindf
ul of the boundaries she insisted on, he spoke into her ear. “That’s my brother, Wyatt, never content to take the easy way, even though a perfectly good set of stairs is staring him in the face. Not to mention, allowing the boys to slack off on their chores in my absence.”
Wyatt wagged his brows at Ty in greeting. “I told you she wouldn’t be ugly and frumpy, didn’t I?”
Ty stifled a groan. “Ma Viola would have you mucking out the stalls for a week for greeting Miss Ella that way. Miss Ella, meet Wyatt, our resident pain in the bum.”
Wyatt doffed his hat. “Miss Ella…Can you sing? I sure hope you can sing. Ma Viola had the loveliest voice this side of the Mississippi.”
Ella laughed and shook her head. “Unless you like the sound of bullfrogs, I’m afraid you will find my voice wanting, Mr. Haven.”
Wyatt’s baby face lit with a grin. “My name’s plain old Wyatt.”
She smiled up at Ty. “Y’all have the sweetest cowboy names.”
“Ty, you went and married yourself a Southern belle,” Wyatt said, sounding pleased as a drunken saloon girl. “Did Ty tell you he spent time in—”
“Stop running your mouth,” Ty said, not ready to speak of his war years with Ella, much less do it with Wyatt offering ridiculous comments. “Can’t you see Miss Ella is dead on her feet?”
Ella waved off the concern.
“Pardon my manners, Miss Ella,” Wyatt said. “I’m plumb happy to have you here. And you have all your teeth and everything.”
“Wyatt,” Ty growled.
Ella laughed and tapped her front tooth. “Better than Old Nellie's, even.”
Wyatt brushed away the snow clinging dandruff-like to his checkered shirt and pointed at the open door. “My world famous beef stew is hot and bubbling and waiting to be ladled into bowls.”
“Why, Wyatt, that sounds delicious,” Ella said.
Unaccountably jealous, Ty offered her an elbow for support even as he shot her an incredulous look. “You call him Wyatt after a two-second acquaintance, but you’re still calling me, your legally wed husband, Mr. Haven?”
She hiked her chin in that stubborn way of hers. “I’m perfectly capable of climbing the stairs on my own…Mr. Haven.” Then she flitted up the stairs lithe as a sparrow when she ought to be plumb tired or smiling shyly as he carried her over the threshold.
The Mail-Order Bride Carries a Gun: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 1) Page 4