Last night she’d expected Mrs. Sallee to offer drab, misshapen dresses when she opened the wardrobe. Connie threw the cover back and stepped across the room to a chair where the two dresses lay. She ran her hand over the fine fabric, feeling the lace and ribbon inset around the collar. Such beautiful dresses, and they fit as if they’d been tailor-made special for her.
Her hand stilled on the dress. She listened in the silence. And heard nothing. Still, the unease wouldn’t go away. Brett! The skunk. He’d run out on her. She’d bet on it.
In one swift movement, Connie stripped off the nightgown Olive had given her and grabbed her blue jeans. Cursing softly under her breath, she dressed. Keeping her movements quiet, she folded her new dresses and nightgown into as small a bundle as she could then tiptoed out of the house and ran toward the barn.
Knowing what she would find when she got there she burst through the door and didn’t stop until she reached the stall where Chester waited. Sure enough, Brett’s buckskin was gone. Not taking time to worry about wrinkles, she stuffed her new clothes in her saddlebag as soon as she had it secured on Chester. Her rifle was still there, and her pistols, too. But the chambers from Brett’s guns were gone.
She stomped her foot. He’d tricked her. That’s why he’d wanted to stop where they would be separated. Sure as anything, he’d taken advantage of her trust. She led Chester outside and mounted. With a gentle nudge, he walked to the road. She stopped and looked first one way and then another. He’d be a fool to head back south. She turned to the north.
As the sun rose, Connie found prints that belonged to the Buckskin. Several miles down the road, he’d veered off through the countryside. Connie followed.
Keeping alert for signs that would indicate the recent passage of a horse and rider slowed Connie, but she moved steadily forward certain she was on the right trail. Davis had taught her well, but tracking Brett was so easy a child could do it. Surely, she and Brett together had left a trail clear enough for even Deems to follow. Soon as she caught up with Brett, she’d have to figure out some way to confuse Burns. Maybe leave false trails. There should be something they could do.
Connie rode all morning, pushing her mount as fast as she could while continuing to note the signs of Brett’s passage. By noon, her stomach protested. With no time to stop, she dug in her saddlebags for the last biscuit she’d packed two days ago. As she took a bite of the hard bread, Chester lifted his head and whinnied. She patted his neck. “I know, boy, I smell it, too.”
She stopped and dismounted. Holding the reins with one hand and her pistol in the other, she walked forward, leading Chester. She crept through brush and dry leaves, making as little sound as possible. The closer they got, the stronger the smell of smoke. Connie drop-tied Chester and continued alone with her gun held ready.
Just short of breaking through to a clearing in the trees, Connie stopped and stared. There sat Brett, pretty as you please, finishing off a roasted rabbit. Connie’s mouth watered as she thought of the tasty meat he’d consumed. If she hadn’t been in such a big hurry to catch him, she could’ve had a decent meal, too. As it was, all she’d got was a dried biscuit. She watched him take a swallow from his canteen and thought of the empty canteen on her pack. She hadn’t taken time to fill it before heading off this morning.
When Connie stepped into the clearing, Brett’s gun whipped out of his holster and pointed at her.
“Not bad.” She walked closer. “Course, I’ve seen faster.”
“What are you doing here?” Brett lowered his gun and shoved it away.
She stuck her pistol in the holster at her side. “Reckon I’m here so you can show me the way to Springfield. Ain’t that what we was doin’?”
“That was before I left you in a perfectly good place with people who could take care of you.” Brett frowned.
Connie stared at Brett. She’d been downright mad when she woke up and realized what he’d done. Now there wasn’t a lick of mad left. All ’cause of her worryin’ that Sheriff Burns would find him and kill him. Two days ago, she wouldn’t have cared a fig for Brett exceptin’ he knew the way to her gold. The breeze moved his hair across his forehead. The frown lines between his pretty green eyes deepened, and her heart did a funny little dance. She didn’t know about one or two or three, but Brett the fourth sure was a good-lookin’ fellow. Be a shame for him to end up dead at the end of Burns’ shootin’ iron. A mighty big shame.
She smiled. “So you was only takin’ care of me?”
He stood. “Look, Connie, it isn’t proper for us to travel together. Why don’t we go into the next town and put you on a stage for Springfield? You don’t need me for that.”
Connie shook her head. If she got on a stage and he rode off, she’d never see him again. Way down deep, that idea hurt. Something had changed, and it started when she put on the tight pants and shirt she now wore. She wasn’t in charge anymore like she’d planned. He’d taken over that position. Worst of it was she didn’t dislike the idea. In fact, letting him be in charge made her feel secure like she hadn’t felt since Davis died.
She’d ridden with outlaws enough to know Brett wasn’t one. He wasn’t a murderer neither. He wouldn’t hurt her. But he’d sure as shootin’ run off and leave her again. First chance he got, he’d find another good home and slip away soon as her back was turned. For now, she’d let him think she agreed with him.
“I reckon a stage would be a good idea. You got any money?” She took another step closer.
His disappointed expression proved he hadn’t thought of everything. He shook his head. “I suppose it’s asking too much to think you might have some?”
She smiled thinking of the sheriff’s savings buried in her saddlebags and nodded. “Yeah, it’s askin’ way too much.”
Brett sank to the ground and sat crossed-legged, his elbow on his knee, his fist under his chin. Connie settled nearby to watch him. Finally, he looked up and spoke. “All right. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go on together, but the first town we come to we’re going to stop. We’ll find a place to stay with someone.”
He frowned at her as if he were mad. “It’s bad enough we’re traveling together. We can’t spend the night alone together, too. It isn’t proper.”
“You done said that a couple of times afore.” Connie gave him a sweet smile. “Are you scared of me, Charles Brett Norris the fourth?”
She watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall back into place before he spoke. He shook his head. “No, Connie, I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant. Tiny little goose bumps raced up her arms. Not from fear, but from something else she couldn’t name. A pleasant emotion, but frightening, even at that. She’d only cared about one man and she’d lost him. If she got too attached to Brett, would she lose him, too?
~*~
Connie’s bullets weighed heavy in Brett’s pocket. He’d forgotten about them until he was well on his way the night before. Now he was glad he still had them. Although she hadn’t threatened to shoot him all day, she might want to if she knew he had disarmed her. She sure would if she knew he planned to leave her again tonight. Only this time he’d make sure she didn’t follow him.
Connie was quite a gal. A smile touched his lips as he thought of the spitfire riding behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to see her delicate features and petite build. An angel for sure. Blond hair and large blue eyes set in the prettiest face he’d ever seen. She’d already stepped into his heart. He’d do everything in his power to see her taken care of. And that didn’t mean letting her uncle drag her back to Purgatory. She wouldn’t be trying so hard to get away from the sheriff if he was a good man. All he had to do was find a home for her by nightfall. Not an easy task, considering they’d been traveling through the middle of a forest all afternoon.
Brett veered toward the right. The road heading north lay somewhere in that direction. If he could find it, a town should be easy to find as well. There he’d f
ind a home for Connie.
“I’m gettin’ powerful hungry.” Connie called out to him. “How about we shoot the next rabbit or squirrel we see?”
“Sounds good to me.” Brett slowed so that Connie pulled alongside him. “Got your rifle handy?”
She nodded. “Had it out the last couple of miles. Ain’t seen much game in these trees, though. Don’t reckon we’re near a town, do ya?”
Brett was pretty sure they were near a town. “Say, if we are, we might be able to get a decent meal and a place to stay for the night.”
“Like last night?” Connie frowned.
“You gotta admit the food was good.” Brett grinned at her.
“That’s ’cause I cooked it. I washed all them dishes, too.”
Brett laughed. “Seems that the Sallee’s took advantage of our need.”
“If you’re meanin’ they made us do all their work, you’re right.” She looked past him. “If I’m not mistaken, that looks like a plowed field.”
Brett turned to see through the trees to where she pointed. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Why don’t we go around it and see if we come to a road that leads to town?”
Connie shrugged. “Okay, but I’m warnin’ ya. I got no intention of lettin’ you outta my sights tonight. Proper or not, you’re gonna be stuck with me ‘til we get to Springfield.”
He grinned and turned his Buckskin to go around the field. As he expected, the road lay beyond the farm they circled. A crossroads sat a few yards to the south with a sign pointing the way to Bear Creek Timbers three miles north.
Just inside the sleepy little town a white frame church with a bell tower on the front sat by the side of the road. As he passed the church, memories of his childhood filled his mind. After his father remarried, his new mother and a stepsister brought a change to their household. For the first time, the Norris family began attending church. He had happy memories of that time.
He pulled back on the reins bringing his horse to a stop. If he wasn’t mistaken, the house next door to the church would be the parsonage. Who better to teach Connie of God’s ways than a minister and his wife?
“What ya stoppin’ for?” Connie paused beside him.
He inclined his head toward the house with roses blooming in the yard. “There’s where we’re going to get our next meal.”
“I don’t know, Brett. That house is sittin’ right next to a church. Folks like that don’t generally take to the likes of me.” Connie eyed the house with a frown.
“How could anyone not take to you?” Brett laughed off her concern. “Of course, if you want to change back into your dress before we approach the house, you might cause a little less shock to the good folks inside.”
He waited while she considered his suggestion. He hoped she did change. That dress she’d first worn made her appear a good five years younger. Surely, the minister wouldn’t turn away a young girl.
She nodded back the way they’d come. “There’s a spot back there off the road where I can change. You watch in case anybody comes along.”
Brett stretched his legs in the deserted road until he heard a rustle from the direction Connie had gone. He turned as a young woman stepped from behind a tree and walked toward him. Her long blue dress brushed the tops of her boots. The skirt flared over her hips from a waist so tiny he could span it with his hands. His heart slammed against his chest as his eyes widened. Where had she gotten this dress? It fit parts of her like a second skin that the brown dress had hidden. She didn’t look like a girl. She looked like a desirable young woman.
“That isn’t your dress.” His voice cracked on the stupid remark. This was worse than the pants. “You can’t wear that.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” Connie looked up at him, her eyes dark with hurt.
He took her shoulders in his hands, and she didn’t pull away. He looked into her luminous blue-violet eyes and lost the ability to think. “I’m not supposed to like you.”
“Me?” A tiny smile lifted Connie’s full red lips. “You like me?”
He let go of her and shook his head as if she’d burned him. “I didn’t say that. I— Where’s your other dress?”
“That old brown rag?” Connie fingered the lace at her throat. “This one’s right real pretty, don’t you think?”
“What I think is that we’d better get you to the preacher’s house before . . .”
“Before what?”
“Come on, let’s go.” Brett grabbed his horse’s reins and stalked off.
Connie caught up by the time he reached the house beside the church. A light burned within although the sun had just sunk below the distant hill in the west. Brett knocked, and within moments the door opened.
“Hello, won’t you come in?” A tall man with broad shoulders stepped back and motioned them inside. “How may I be of service to you fine folks?”
Brett looked around the clean, though sparsely furnished room and nodded at a woman who sat sewing. He cleared his throat. “I’m Brett Norris. This is Connie Davis. We’ve been traveling all day and have had nothing to eat. We were wondering if we might exchange chores for a bite of food.”
The minister looked from one to the other, his eyebrows raised then lowered. “Norris? Davis? Traveling together? Alone?”
Brett swallowed and shrugged. Maybe Connie would see now that decent folks didn’t approve of a man and woman traveling without escort. “Yes, but not overnight. I thought you might take Miss Davis in as she’s in need of a place to stay.”
He heard Connie’s gasp and felt the bruise of her fist against his arm. “That ain’t true. He’s just tryin’ to get shed of me. We been on the road for two days and two nights. Ain’t no one been travelin’ with us, neither.”
The next gasp came from the minister’s wife. “Oh, dear.” Her needle flashed through the cloth so fast Brett wondered how she kept from stabbing herself.
The minister poked his long finger directly at Brett, but spoke to Connie. “Has this man compromised you, young lady?”
Connie frowned. “Compromised?” Her eyes brightened as a smile touched her lips. “I’d reckon if that means did he take advantage of me, the answer’s yes, he sure did, just last night.”
“No—”
“Oh, for shame.” The minister’s wife rocked furiously as she shook her head, interrupting Brett’s protest.
Did Connie think leaving her in a good home was the compromise the minister meant? He opened his mouth again when the minister’s words stopped his voice in his throat.
“Do you love this man enough to be tied to him for life?”
A wide smile broke over Connie’s face as she turned toward Brett and nodded. She wanted to be tied to him for life? He lost the ability to speak and all rational thought fled. A light sprang from her eyes while invisible bars closed around Brett.
He’d walked into a trap. A trap from which there was no way out. A trap made even more dangerous because he wasn’t sure he wanted out.
The minister scowled at Brett before turning a fatherly smile on Connie. “In that case, you shall be married before this night is over.”
Chapter 7
“Do you, Charles Brett Norris IV, take this woman, Constance Davis, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Brett stared at the minister. They’d been to the county recorder’s office and now stood in front of the altar in an almost empty church. Reverend Thomas Lackey, a very judgmental man in Brett’s opinion, stood facing Brett and Connie. He waited for Brett’s answer. His wife sat at the organ. The county recorder and his wife sat on the first pew with a scattering of curious onlookers they’d picked up along the way. Brett glanced at the side door, wondering how far he’d get if he made a dash for it.
As Brett hesitated, the good man shifted his Bible with one hand while he lifted the shotgun in the other and repeated, “I just asked you if you’ll take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Brett looked down the barrel of the shotgun. He’d
seen the business end of a gun more times in the last week than he had in his entire life. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Connie. Or find her mighty attractive. Under different circumstances he would have probably enjoyed pursuing the tiny spitfire. But there was something about being forced into marriage that didn’t set well with him. Actually, he hadn’t had a say about anything except his salvation from the day he set foot in Purgatory, Arkansas. He felt as if he’d been caught by a whirlwind that hadn’t stopped spinning yet.
He looked down at Connie and met the question in her gaze. She didn’t seem to mind the idea of them getting married. He searched behind her innocent, wide-eyed expression, but couldn’t think straight when he did. Surely, she hadn’t planned on this happening.
Her smile faltered as he kept looking at her. She was such a little thing. So fragile looking. So beautiful. A surge of emotions swept through Brett’s heart as he took in her beauty and vulnerability. He’d do anything in his power to keep her safe from harm. He’d protect her from her uncle with his dying breath. He’d even marry her if that’s what it took.
He felt his facial muscles relax, as he turned to face the minister. “Yes, I do.”
A collective sigh swept the church as the minister lowered his shotgun and continued the age-old words that tied Brett and Connie together as husband and wife until death they should part.
“You may kiss the bride now.” Reverend Lackey beamed at them.
Brett looked down at his bride and saw panic in the depths of her beautiful violet-blue eyes as she stared up at him. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and pulled her close to whisper in her ear. “Don’t worry. It’s just a kiss. Nothing more. I promise.”
~*~
Connie’s panic eased with Brett’s reassuring words. Then when he touched her with a mere brush of the lips, disappointment rammed her heart. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t wanted to marry a man she’d known less than a week any more than he’d wanted to marry her. She wasn’t interested in the things that went on between a man and woman in the dark. Maggie’d ruined that for her. She’d had enough of Sheriff Burns’ insinuations to last a lifetime. So why did she feel as if she’d just been cheated by Brett’s almost kiss?
Connie and the Cowboy (Outlaw Gold) Page 7