by Bobbi Smith
"I don't know where my stand-in went," she said, surprised that he'd left without waiting to be paid. She still owed him the ten dollars, and she was more than willing to pay up. It had been worth every cent she'd promised him to have this story. "But the real Ben..."
Everyone waited, curious to hear where the well-known editor/owner and supposed groom had gone.
"I got a telegram from him just before the wedding was to take place. In it he said that he wasn't coming back to town-ever."
"Why? What happened?" another woman asked.
No one noticed that Julie had gone pale at her announcement.
Elise quickly related the news about how Ben had lost the paper in a card game.
"You must have been frantic, what with the wedding all set and everything."
"Frantic is too mild of a word for what I was feeling. I was quite a sight standing at the stage depot in my wedding gown," she told them with a slight smile. "I'd convinced myself that Ben would be showing up on the stage that was overdue, but then Grandmother brought me his telegram."
"Did Ben even know about the wedding? He'd been gone for quite a few weeks already, hadn't he?"
"He'd left Durango to take care of some family business before I found out the truth about Farnsworth. I hadn't had the opportunity to tell him that he had proposed to me and that the arrangements had been made for him to marry me today. I just kept expecting him to come back to town and go back to work. When I started this, I felt certain he'd get here in plenty of time." She was smiling broadly as she related the tale.
The crowd chuckled good-naturedly. "Are you ever going to tell him what happened?"
"Maybe-if I ever see him again."
"Did he say who the new owner of the paper is?" George asked.
"No, but I imagine I'll be finding out any time now."
As she'd stood in the crowd listening to Elise's explanations of all that had happened, Julie couldn't believe what she'd heard. Elise and Ben's wedding had been a hoax from the start. None of it had been real. He didn't love Elise and had never planned to marry her. Her mood brightened a little bit, but she was still upset by the news that Ben was not returning to town.
"Who was the Ben Hollins you `married'?" Julie asked.
"He came in on the stage this afternoon. I was standing there at the depot wondering what I was going to do without the real Ben when he climbed down. I knew the moment I saw him that he'd be perfect."
"And he agreed to pose as your finace with no questions asked?"
"Yes. He was wonderful. I couldn't have done it without him. He was a big help."
"What's his real name?"
Elise frowned. "You know, everything happened so quickly, I never got the chance to ask him."
Everyone laughed and joked about her marrying a complete stranger.
"You certainly were lucky that he showed up when he did," George remarked.
"I'll say. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do without a groom."
Those gathered around Elise laughed again.
"I wonder..." one woman said thoughtfully. "Are you and your substitute groom legally married now? I mean, you did say your vows and all."
"Farnsworth could hardly be called a man of the cloth. He was the leader of a gang of thieves," Elise replied easily, trying to ignore the nagging thought that the woman might be right. After all, in all of her planning, she had been certain that they would be interrupted long before the final vows had been exchanged. She quickly dismissed her worry, though. "Had he been a proxy for Ben, I might be married to the real Ben Hollins right now, but I don't think the vows we exchanged today were binding in any way. The whole point of faking the ceremony was to bring a bad man to justice, and that's exactly what we accomplished."
"I can't wait to see the next edition of the Star, "Claire said proudly.
"I can't wait to write it!" Elise beamed. "Speaking of which, I'd better get to the office and go to work. You can read all the details of what happened today in tomorrow's issue."
A buzz of excitement ran through those who had come to talk with her.
Elise started from the tent, ready to get to her desk and start writing copy. She was thrilled that her investigation had panned out just the way she'd hoped it would. All her hard work had been worth it! It was just a shame that the real Ben Hollins hadn't been here to witness her triumph and share in the glory. He would have been proud of her. She hoped the new owner-whoever he was-appreciated her accomplishment.
Sales of the Star would be soaring after this next issue. Elise was sure of it, but she knew she couldn't rest on her laurels. She would have to find a way to top this expose. It wouldn't be easy. Stories like this one about Preacher Farnsworth came along once in a blue moon, but somehow she would find a way to keep things exciting so they would sell more papers. There was a lot of competition in town among the several newspapers, and she wanted the Star to be the best of them all.
The realization of her success kept her spirits soaring. She reveled in the praises the crowd heaped upon her. Still, Elise knew not to take all their compliments too seriously. A newspaper reporter was only as good as her next story.
Her grandmother's call brought her up short just as they were starting outside.
"Darling, don't you think you should go home for a moment and change into something a little more suitable before you go to work?" Claire asked, trying not to laugh over her granddaughters enthusiasm for her job.
Elise laughed, chagrined. "You're right. I am just a little overdressed for the occasion."
They started for home so she could change clothes.
"You know," her grandmother began with a chuckle, "this is your wedding night. Are you sure you want to go to work?"
"I'm sure. I'm going to be spending most of the night at the jail interviewing Marshal Trent and his deputies. Andy rode with the deputies, so I should have some good inside information from him. I hope he'll be waiting for me at the office so that once I've talked to the lawmen, I can go straight there and write the article right away. I don't have a minute to lose. We need to meet our deadline to get the paper out on time."
"Somehow, having you visiting the jail and then going to work at your desk were not quite what I had envisioned for you on such a momentous occasion," Claire teased.
"Me either, but since this wasn't a real wed ding, I suppose it's best that I don't have a real wedding night, either."
"You're absolutely right about that-especially since you don't even know your `husband's' real name."
"I'll have to go find him in the morning, so I can pay him and thank him for all he did to help me."
"He did do a fine job. I was worried when the time came for you to say your vows. It's amazing that he didn't protest and try to get out of the ceremony."
"Everything turned out perfectly, though."
"Yes, it did. I'm very proud of you, darling."
Elise slanted her a smile. "Now all I have to do is find a way to top this story."
Claire gave her a worried look. "That's not going to be easy, and you were in a lot of danger today. Things might have taken a terrible turn if it hadn't been for your `groom's' quick action."
"My groom's quick action? What quick action?" Elise frowned at her, puzzled by her remark." `Ben' didn't do anything except trip and almost fall down."
"You're wrong about that. If your `Ben' hadn't deliberately fallen into Farnsworth the way he did when he did, somebody most assuredly would have gotten hurt."
"But the marshal-"
"Marshal Trent was wonderful, but `Ben' was the one who really stopped Farnsworth. If he hadn't made his move right then, that horrible man would have dragged you away with him. God only knows what might have happened to you next."
Elise was amazed by her grandmother's perception. "But I thought `Ben' just stumbled and accidentally fell against him."
"Oh, he did `just stumble,' but his timing was everything. Surely, as mild-mannered as he is, he wouldn't have gone for
a major confrontation, especially since he was unarmed. No, he used his brains instead of his brawn. He did some quick thinking, and he managed to save you quite handily. We were very lucky he was on that stagecoach today. I don't know of another man who could have handled everything so well-not even the real Ben Hollins."
Elise said nothing more, allowing her grandmother to think that she was in agreement with her. The truth be told, though, for all that her stand-in groom had been agreeable to helping her in her dilemma, she honestly believed his actions during what could have been a terrible shoot-out had been strictly accidental. He was a very nice man, but she was certain that he was not the hero of the day as her grandmother seemed to think he was.
While Elise had been surrounded by her wedding guests, Trace had quietly slipped away. He'd picked up his bags at the stage depot and made his way to the hotel.
"Good afternoon," the clerk greeted him, sliding the hotel register across the counter toward him. "Just sign in here. Will you be staying long?"
"For a few days, at least," he told him as he registered under the name of Gabriel West. It had been his grandfather's name, and he intended to keep using it until he was ready to go after the Harris gang. That was why he'd adopted the disguise, too. The longer everyone thought Trace Jackson dead, the better. He wanted to catch Harris by surprise.
"Welcome to Durango, Mr. West. I hope you enjoy your stay."
"It looks like it's going to be an interesting one," he remarked, thinking of all that had happened just since he'd gotten off the stage. His had been quite an unusual welcome.
"Well, good. If you need anything, just let me know. Your room's at the top of the stairs and to the left."
Trace thanked him and made his way upstairs. The accommodations weren't plush, but they were clean and comfortable, and that was all he needed. He would look for a more permanent residence once he'd assumed his position as editor/owner of the Star.
Trace smiled to himself at the thought of taking over the paper. He wondered what Elise's reaction was going to be when she discovered that she'd ended up "marrying" her boss just as she'd originally planned.
Evidently, everything Ben Hollins had told him about Elise Martin that night after the poker game had been true. He'd warned him that she was one helluva newspaper woman who would go to just about any lengths to get her story, and now he knew Ben hadn't been exaggerating.
Trace hadn't expected to run into Elise so quickly upon arriving in town. He'd been surprised to see a bride at the stage depot, and even more surprised when she'd greeted him with that very pleasant kiss. But once she'd whispered her name to him and asked him to cooperate, there had been no way he could refuse. Elise-his reporter-had been up to something, and he'd played along to find out exactly what.
Trace was glad that he had. Though her methods had been unorthodox, they'd gotten results. She'd helped to bring in an outlaw who'd been causing trouble throughout the state. He was glad that he had been able to play a small part in it.
Setting his bags aside, Trace started to shrug out of his jacket. Just that movement left his right arm and shoulder aching, though, and he shook his head in disgust as a great weariness settled over him. He couldn't believe he was still so weak. It had been a good two months since the ambush, yet, even now, any great physical exertion left him exhausted. Though he'd tried to make his attack on Farnsworth look like an accident, driving his shoulder forcefully into the preacher's gun arm had jarred him, and now he was paying the price.
Drawing a ragged breath, he finally managed to take off the coat and rid himself of the tie and his eyeglasses. He hated the damned things, but he could not dispense with them yet-not until he was ready to face Harris down.
Trace began to massage his injured right shoulder and arm, knowing it wouldn't help, yet hoping that it would. He smiled grimly to himself as he walked to the window to look out on the streets of Durango. It seemed to be a decent enough town, but he didn't like being here. He would much rather have been on Harris's trail, tracking him down. For the time being, though, there was nothing else he could do. He silently swore at the fate that had brought him to this. He flexed his right arm, longing for relief, but was rewarded with more stabbing pain.
Grimacing, Trace wondered if he would ever be the same again. Even as he thought it, he already knew the answer. The Trace Jackson who had been known for his fast draw didn't exist anymore. He was a different man now. He had always believed in truth and justice and that in the end, good would prevail. But now he wasn't so sure. He'd become a driven man. His only motivation was to catch up with Harris and avenge his friends' deaths.
As memories of that fateful day besieged him, Trace suddenly needed to get out of the small room. He felt the need for a drink. He slowly put his coat back on, donned the spectacles, and left the hotel to find the nearest saloon. A shot or two of whiskey would definitely ease the pain in his shoulder-and the pain that haunted his heart.
The Mother Lode Saloon was relatively quiet as Trace made his way to the bar. He ordered a whiskey, then sat at a table near the back. He took a deep drink and waited for the liquor to work its magic on his body and soul.
"My name's Penny. Is there anything I can get for you today?" a blond-haired bar girl purred as she came to stand before him in her tight-fitting, very revealing satin dress.
Trace downed the rest of his drink and pushed the glass toward her. "Just a refill on my whiskey will do me fine," he answered, glancing only briefly at the tempting view offered by her low-cut bodice.
"Are you sure that's all you need?" Penny gave him a enticing look, wanting to attract him. She could tell immediately that he was different from the other men who patronized the bar, and she found him intriguing with his nice-looking clothes and eyeglasses. For all that he didn't look like one of the usual ranch hands or soldiers who were her regular customers, she wondered what he would really be like if she got him alone upstairs. She sensed there was more to this man than met the eye, and she wanted to find out if her instincts were right.
"I'm sure," he answered, his tone dismissive.
"Too bad," she sighed, picking up his glass. "We could have had some fun together tonight."
Trace watched her walk away, her hips swaying in suggestive invitation. He found himself smiling as he thought that, by all rights, it really was his wedding night and he should have been somewhere having some fun. Well, he conceded, at least it was Ben Hollins's wedding night.
Trace wondered if his "bride" had given any thought to this being their wedding night. As caught up as she'd been in her excitement over the preacher's arrest, he doubted it. Elise Martin had wanted her story, and she'd gotten it. That had been all that had mattered to the Star's reporter.
Thoughts of Elise made him smile even more. Ben had used the term "firebrand" when he described her, and now he understood why. When it came to tracking down her story, she had been relentless. In the face of near disaster, she hadn't panicked, but had kept her wits about her. She had been determined that the wedding was going to go on no matter what, and she'd accomplished it-even going so far as to marry a total stranger to get it done. His smile broadened as he thought of the kiss he'd given her after the ceremony. It had been quite exciting, and he wondered if the rest of his stay could possibly measure up to his first day.
Trace's thoughts about Elise were interrupted as Penny returned with his whiskey.
"Here you are, honey," she cooed, leaning forward as she set the drink before him to give him an even better look at her ample breasts. "You change your mind about wanting anything..." She paused for dramatic effect. "Anything at all, you just let me know."
"I will," he promised, handing her the money for the whiskey plus a decent tip.
She smiled at him as she put her tip money down her bodice and laughed throatily as she moved away. "It'll be safe there-for the time being."
Trace nursed his second drink and tried to relax. Several new customers came in and began relating the news of Farnswor
th's arrest to the others at the bar. He didn't recognize any of the men as having been at the wedding, so he knew that word of what had happened was quickly spreading around town. When the men told the others that the female reporter from the Star had been a part of the investigation, everyone was eager to read the Stars next edition so they could get the whole story. It was obvious that Elise knew how to drum up interest and sell newspapers. He was impressed.
It was growing dark outside when the throbbing in Trace's arm and shoulder finally began to ease. He quit the bar and returned to his hotel room, glad for the reprieve from the pain. He was looking forward to getting some rest. There was a lot that had to be done tomorrow, and he needed to be ready. He had to establish himself at the paper, find a more permanent place to live, and locate a site where he could practice shooting without anyone being the wiser to his motive. Of the three, the last was most important to him. For all that he could carry a sawed-off shotgun with him, he would feel more in control once he was able to use his sidearm again.
Trace's reputation as a deadly gun had helped keep things quiet in Eagle Pass. Few had dared to start trouble in his town, knowing the justice he would immediately mete out. His remarkable accuracy and his quick-draw ability had ended with the ambush, though. Ever since he'd been strong enough to stand, he'd been trying to train himself to shoot lefthanded. He'd improved a lot from that first day he'd picked up his sidearm again, but he was still a far cry from being as good as he had been. Still, he wasn't going to quit until he was close to being that fast and accurate once more.
Trace settled back in his room and, leaving his spectacles on the bedside table, he lay down. He was glad that no one in town knew who he was, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way. As far as anyone in Durango was concerned, he was Gabriel West, the newspaper editor. When the time came for Trace Jackson to make his move in pursuit of the Harris gang, Gabe West would simply disappear.
There were only two people in the world right then who knew Trace Jackson was still alive. Gibby was one, and the other was Will Campbell, the deputy he'd left behind in Eagle Pass to keep watch over the town while he and the posse went after the gang.