Missy Meets the Marshal (Lone Star Love Book 2)

by Amelia Smarts

  Grover ate the last bite of his licorice, fished a coin from his pocket, and flicked it at the shopkeeper. The nickel spun, then clinked on the counter. "Obeying the law isn't what makes someone a good person, Henry. I know this because my wife, who has disobeyed it, is ten times the person you'll ever be, and you obey every letter."

  With that, Grover strode out the door. He felt better getting that off his chest, but he knew he'd done nothing to solve the issue. He considered what might happen next if he didn't act fast. He doubted Henry would try to capture Missy and travel with her all the way to the sheriff in Dallas. It was a good two days' journey, and Henry didn't have the skill or energy necessary to travel off the beaten path with a woman in tow, nor would any horse unfortunate enough to be his mount. That meant Henry would most likely either wire the sheriff to inform him of Missy's presence or hire someone to capture her in exchange for a portion of the bounty. Whichever way it happened, there wasn't much time, and he had to figure out a new plan, quickly.

  The moment Grover opened the door to his house following his visit to the shop, he knew something was wrong. The air felt stagnant, like it hadn't moved for hours. The baby cried at the top of her lungs from the bedroom, and Grover felt dread wash over him. Missy was gone. He rushed to the room, hoping the instincts he'd always trusted were wrong and he would find Missy there, but as usual, his instincts were only too correct. Next to the baby on the bed laid an envelope with his name written on it.

  He lifted the crying child into his arms and carried her and the envelope to the sofa in the living room, where he sat. As he read the letter, his anger and fear boiled to a height previously unknown to him. Never had he felt so angry at someone, and never had he felt so afraid.

  Dearest Grover,

  I've decided to leave, though it pains me greatly. I weep as I write this, but I can't stay here with you in good conscience, knowing that my presence endangers your job and freedom. Please know that my time with you has been the happiest of my life. I won't forget your kindness to me.

  My plan is to head west and make a new life for myself, and with any luck I'll be successful. However, if I'm captured, I'll face punishment bravely knowing that Hannah Lou is safe with you. If I'm killed, I'll die bravely for the same reason.

  Please take care of my precious daughter and tell her how much I love her when she's old enough to understand. I love you, Grover, with all my heart. Please don't be angry with me. Please think of me fondly, but with the understanding that you're better off without me.

  I love you always.

  Missy

  Hannah Lou screamed bloody murder in his ear, her face beet red with the exertion of it. Grover bounced her gently against his chest. "I feel the same way, baby girl," he murmured. He rubbed her back in an effort to soothe her, but it didn't help. It dawned on him that she was probably hungry, and Grover had no idea how or what to feed her. He racked his brain and came to a decision. He stood suddenly, and the letter in his lap floated to the middle of the floor.

  He locked his front door behind him and walked to Jake's Livery, only to discover his mare gone from her stall. "Add horse theft to your list of crimes, Missy," he muttered in a surge of fury, though it was the least of his causes for anger.

  For a fee, Jake lent him another horse. Holding Hannah Lou firmly in the crook of his right arm and the reins in his left hand, he cantered to the Barnes' cabin to ask yet another favor of Anna, and this time also a favor of Carter.

  Carter wasn't home when Grover deposited the caterwauling baby into Anna's arms. Grover explained what happened as best he could over the shrieks of two infants and a toddler clanging a pot on the hardwood floor.

  Anna said what she could to comfort him. "Go on, Grover. I'll take care of Hannah here, don't you worry. I'll nurse her just as soon as you leave. Carter's at the range."

  He grabbed Anna's hand and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you, Anna. Once again."

  "It's nothing," she said, a blush rising to her cheeks. She closed the door as Grover left.

  He cantered to the range and found Carter branding cattle with his men. After waving him down, Grover explained the situation and asked that he join him in his search for Missy. Carter let out a piercing whistle to get the attention of his foreman and pointed away from the range to indicate his departure.

  The rancher mounted a horse and shook his head. "That's a fool for a wife you have, Grover, putting herself in danger to save you." Carter directed his gelding toward the dirt trail. "Sounds an awful lot like what you did for her, so I reckon you two fools are right for each other. Any idea where she's headed?"

  Grover scoffed. "As a matter of fact, I do. She told me in her letter she was going west. I guess she thought I'd be content to know that and not raise sand to find her."

  Carter and Grover cantered side by side on the main path west. Grover called for a stop after a few miles, and they reined their horses to a halt. He pointed out a narrow trail to the right. "There are two paths she could take headed west. The one we're on, of course, but this here is a pig trail that runs mostly parallel after jutting out a few miles north. It would befit someone trying to hide and intending on retiring off the beaten path before nightfall."

  Carter observed the small trail. "You think we should ride that?"

  Grover reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a bandanna. He wiped his brow with it. "Tough to say. It depends on what she's fixin' to do. If she wants to set up camp somewhere private, she'd likely take the small trail and find a spot a ways off it. If she wants to make a lot of tracks and get as far away from Porter as she can, at the risk of her mount tuckering clear out, she'd probably stay on this beaten path. I guess I need to figure out which she'd be more likely to do."

  Carter rubbed his palm on his denim-clad thigh. "We should go with your gut, your first instinct. That's what's usually right."

  Grover's shoulders slumped a bit under the weight of the decision he needed to make, knowing that the wrong one could have dire consequences. "My guess is she's afraid enough of being caught by a bounty hunter that she'd ride the pig trail. She's used to living on the run, and I think it's more likely for her to think of her escape as something that will take days. I don't think she'd do something so foolish as to bake her mount the first day. But honestly, I don't rightly know. Maybe she's not in a good enough state of mind to make the smart decision."

  "But your first guess is she'd go on the smaller path?"

  "I guess so, yes," Grover said.

  Carter steered his horse toward the small trail. "Let's go with that plan."

  "I hope it's the right one. I don't have the most faith in my plans as of late."

  "Speaking of, what do you plan to do when we find her, now that Henry knows who she is?"

  Grover gave his mount a kick toward the trail. "You mean after I wear out my arm tanning her hide?"

  At that moment they heard the thunder of galloping hooves behind them. Quickly legging their horses to the side of the path opposite the pig trail, they dismounted and took cover behind some brush, where they waited to discover who followed them at such speed.

  # # #

  Henry had scarcely finished tending to his wounded pride after the marshal's insults to his character before the door to his shop swung open again and Nathan Matthews swaggered in.

  "How-do. I asked where I might find the fattest feller in town, and everyone led me here. Tracking you was easy as lickin' butter off a knife."

  "Ah! You're the bounty hunter from Bartow. What can I do for you, Mr...?"

  "Call me Nate," the man said with a smirk.

  "And you can call me Henry. As luck would have it, I'm in the market for a bounty hunter."

  "Are you now? Well, before we get to that, I'd like to know where the woman you think is the bank robber might be. I'd like to have a look-see."

  Henry leaned forward and lowered his voice. "That's who I need a bounty hunter for. I found out she really is Elizabeth Matthews the bank robber. She goe
s by Missy, but it's a false name."

  "You don't say?" Nathan's tone dripped with condescension.

  "I do. She admitted it. She gave me this as a bribe to keep her husband out of it." Henry reached into his vest pocket and produced the silver bird brooch. He showed it to Nathan. "The marshal was in on the plan to hide her identity. She thought she could keep me quiet by giving me a bit of silver."

  Nathan stared at the brooch in recognition and surprise for some time before a slow, evil grin spread over his face. "She gave that bit of silver to the town's Judas, didn't she, Henry? Seems you were right about her being Elizabeth Matthews. Tell me where she is."

  Henry shook his head and stood upright from his bent position. "Oh, no. Not so fast. I want in on the bounty. I need someone to help me take her to Dallas, and if you want to be the person I hire, then you must agree to split the reward with me in exchange for my information."

  Nathan continued to grin, but his eyes turned hard. "Why, of course, Henry. Fair's fair. You'll get half the bounty."

  Henry nodded, and Nathan couldn't believe the shopkeeper's gullibility in thinking he'd share the money with him, if in fact that's what he was after, which it wasn't. Nathan wanted what was already his, and that was the woman with enough gall to leave him for another.

  "She lives with the marshal, Grover Huntley. I'll lead you to his house. This would be a good time to see her, since Grover's likely working at the jail." Henry walked outside without noticing shock appear on Nathan's face for the second time.

  Nathan cleared his throat. "Pardon me, Henry. Did you say Grover Huntley is the marshal here?"

  "Yup." Henry walked along the wooden sidewalk at a remarkably fast pace. "He's broken the law by helping her, so I reckon we should take him to the sheriff in Dallas too. Although there's no bounty money in that far as I can tell, so it's probably not worth the trouble."

  "No, probably not," Nathan said absently. Rage brewed inside him, which would have sent a normal man into the shakes, but Nathan was far too cold and composed for it to have that effect. Instead, he focused on how he would make Grover Huntley suffer. The man as good as stole a thousand bucks from him, killed his brother, and now had taken his wife! Kissed by a bit of lead was far too easy a way for the man to die. While following Henry to his enemy's house, Nathan removed the strap keeping his gun in place and drew his weapon. He checked to make sure it was fully loaded. Holstering it, he left the strap loose for quick access and cracked his knuckles.

  Nathan stood to the side out of view while Henry knocked for several minutes on Grover Huntley's door with no answer. Nathan approached and examined the door handle.

  "I don't think that's lawful, mister," Henry said nervously, looking around as Nathan picked the lock.

  Henry was really beginning to grate on Nathan's nerves, but he couldn't very well kill him in the middle of town. He forced himself to sound agreeable. "Don't fret, Henry. Bounty hunters are allowed to do stuff like this. Didn't you know?"

  "Oh, okay," Henry said, immediately set at ease upon hearing Nathan's bad excuse.

  Nathan rolled his eyes, growing even more annoyed with the fool he'd managed to acquire as his temporary partner. Once inside, Nathan scanned the room. His eyes immediately settled on the one thing that seemed out of place, a letter in the middle of the floor.

  "Fucking hell," Nathan cursed after reading it. He kicked the leg of a kitchen chair with such force that the wood cracked and the chair fell over on its side. "She's on the run again, and I reckon her pussy-whupped coot ain't far behind."

  Nathan stalked out of the house and strode to Henry's shop where his horse stood tethered to a post. Henry struggled to keep up. "Wait for me, mister," Henry said. "I need to get a horse from the livery."

  Nathan swung a leg over his mount and laughed. "You and your tallow will only slow me down. This is where our paths eventuate, Henry, and I can't say as I'm all that tore up about it."

  Nathan spurred his horse into a gallop toward the path headed west, while Henry swore and hustled to the livery. He rented the largest horse in the stable and set out after Nathan, determined not to lose him. He wanted what was rightfully his, a share in the bounty.

  As it turned out, Nathan's horse was so weary after traveling great distances for days that no amount of spurring could get her very far. She collapsed on the path several miles out of town. Nathan jumped out of the saddle just in time to avoid being crushed under her weight when she rolled to the side.

  Nathan paced, spitting mad that his horse had turned to buzzard bait. Cursing, he headed back toward Porter on foot, intent on acquiring another unlucky horse and continuing his pursuit of Grover and Elizabeth. After walking for only a short time, he stopped and stared as a horse and rider headed toward him at a trot. He couldn't believe his luck when he noticed the agility and strength of the horse, who seemed to barely struggle under the bouncing blubber burdening her back.

  Reaching to his side, Nathan drew his Remington. He pointed downrange at his target, cocked the hammer, took aim, and with one light squeeze of the trigger, shot Henry Martin between the eyes.

  Chapter 10 - Dead by Sundown

  The galloping hooves became louder as the horse and rider neared. Carter and Grover exchanged an uneasy look when they heard the hooves slow to a canter and then a trot. Grover placed a hand on his gun, ready to draw if the traveler followed them with ill intent and had seen them take cover. From where they hid behind the brush, they watched as the rider on the large horse came to a halt and observed the same small trail they'd just decided to ride. When the rider took off his black hat to scratch his head, Grover recognized him as Nathan Matthews. Before Grover could act on his discovery, Nathan spurred his already lathered horse into a gallop and continued west along the wide path.

  "That was Nathan Matthews," Grover told Carter hastily as he mounted, shocked by what he'd seen and wondering how the jilted outlaw had managed to track Missy. "This changes things. Here's what we do. We split. You take the pig trail and search for Missy, and I follow Nathan in case I'm wrong and this path leads him straight to her. Even if it doesn't, it's about time he and I discussed matters using our talking irons."

  Carter gathered his reins into his left hand. "You fixin' to use your gun in pursuit of permanent ends?"

  Grover wrapped his bandanna around his neck and tied the knot with a determined yank. "Without a doubt. Mark my words. One of Missy's husbands will be dead by sundown."

  Carter said nothing in response and led his horse in the direction of the small trail.

  "Carter," Grover said, causing his friend to look back over his shoulder. "Please find my wife, and when you do, take her to your ranch for safety. I'll meet you there."

  Carter gave him a quick nod. "Don't worry about Missy. I'll take care of her when I find her. Get yourself back alive, my friend."

  The men parted ways. Carter headed onto the trail at a walk to allow his graceful gelding to pick his footing between the heavy brush, and Grover galloped his horse in pursuit of Nathan.

  Just when Carter began to lose hope of finding Missy, his attention to his surroundings paid off and his eyes fell on crushed goosegrass to the side the trail. Squinting, he observed a recently trampled path through the grass. Carter dismounted and tied his horse to a tree, knowing he could trail more quietly and track better by foot. He followed the beaten brush until he reached a clearing. There he stopped and took in the sight with a sigh of relief and thrill of success. A thin woman sat hunched on a fallen log, a light-colored shawl wrapped around her shaking shoulders.

  Sorry that he was about to scare the living daylights out of her, but unwilling to give her any chance to run or yell, Carter sneaked up behind her. In one fell movement, he grabbed her clear off the log and clasped a hand firmly over her mouth. His other arm held her torso in an iron grip against him. She flailed her arms and legs and yelled against his hand.

  "It's okay, settle down. My name is Carter. I'm a friend of your husband."

&
nbsp; She continued to struggle and yell muffled words against his hand.

  "Stop twitching about and I'll let you speak."

  Her limbs settled into a limp surrender, and she trembled all over.

  "If I remove my hand from your mouth, are you going to scream and call attention to yourself?"

  "Nuh," was her muffled response, along with an attempt to shake her head.

  Carter loosened his hand.

  "Which one?" she said fearfully.

  Carter's arm remained around her. "What do you mean, which one?"

  "Which of my husbands is your friend!" she shrieked, and Carter clamped his hand over her mouth again.

  Realizing the way he introduced himself lacked any cause for relief, he apologized. "I'm sorry, Missy. I'm Grover's friend." When he felt her relax, he let her go and turned her around to face him. “Listen to me now. Grover says you’re to come with me, and that’s what you’ll be doing. He’s going to meet us at my ranch after taking care of something. Will you be giving me any trouble?”

  "No," she said in resignation. She looked down at her shoes. Carter noticed she'd torn her dress clear up the skirt to allow her to ride astride in her escape.

  "I hope not. You're in danger. Nathan's only a few miles away, and Grover wants you clear out of here. If you need any more motivation to come along peaceably, your baby is at the ranch, and she needs her mother, just like Grover needs his wife."

  Missy cried at hearing those words. Carter put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a quick shake. "Now's not the time for tears. Cowboy up. It's nearly dusk. We have to get off the pig trail before dark so we don't get lost." He led Missy to the horse she'd taken from the livery. He grabbed the saddle that rested against a tree and quickly cinched it to the mare. He mounted. Taking Missy's arm, he helped her up, and she settled behind him. "My mount is by the trail," he explained, and urged the horse forward.

  "What's Grover taking care of?" she asked in a shaking voice. Carter didn't answer, which led Missy to her own correct conclusion. "He's going after Nathan, isn't he?" Carter didn't respond to that either, and Missy buried her head in his back and cried. "I'll never forgive myself if something happens to him."