by Linda Broday
“I have a strong back and two willing hands.” He made a fist. “I don’t shirk from hard work. But if this marriage to you doesn’t happen, I won’t try again.”
His sincerity touched her. Lord knew she was no prize. A little over two years ago, she’d escaped an insane asylum along with a handful of other women like her, women whose families had had them committed for various reasons, but mostly to get them out of the way. Stuck them in there to die without getting their hands dirty.
The cuts and bruises on Clay’s face drew her. He must’ve been caught without his gun. Or maybe he liked fistfights.
“Do you drink, and are you prone to fighting?” she asked.
Clay rubbed his jaw with his long, slender fingers. He had a gunslinger’s hand. “I know how this looks, but I don’t fight unless provoked and I only drink occasionally. You have nothing to fear from me. I’ll never lay a hand to you or Violet.”
“It’s your word on that?”
Another heavy sigh left him. “I wish I could provide proof, but you’ll just have to believe me. I don’t beat women or kids. I give you my word and my solemn vow. I hope that’s enough.”
His gaze slid to the worn shoes peeking from under her skirt. He had to be noticing the bad shape they were in—the hole in the leather near the toe, the heel half off of one, and the scuffs that badly needed polish. Hoping he couldn’t see her misshapen feet, she pulled them under her hem. Although he didn’t stand in judgment, she couldn’t bear him to see her looking this shabby.
Sharp pain shot into her chest and she focused on her breathing until it passed. He shouldn’t see her secret this soon or he might send her packing.
With the windmill singing its own song outside, Tally glanced around the dwelling, her gaze landing on the print curtains on the window. Something told her that they were new. To make the home better for her? “Is there anything else I should know?”
He reached for her hand. “No. There’s nothing else.”
“But you still have a price on your head. What happens when the lawmen eventually find this place? They will. They always do.”
Would he make her a widow, thrust back out on her own again? Clay frowned and turned her palm over, studying it. She didn’t want to be alone, fighting for survival without him. For the first time, she’d had the promise of being able to relax her vigil. She was bone weary from being strong all the time, never able to let down her guard.
“I hope to get a pardon from the governor. I mean to apply at the first chance. If he refuses, I don’t know.” He met her eyes and she saw the worry that must surely keep him awake at night. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. We might leave Texas and go farther west if you wouldn’t mind being uprooted.”
“I wouldn’t object.” Tally cleared her throat. “Now I have some things to ask of you. Refusal of any will be a deal breaker.”
“Sounds fair enough.”
“I’ll help build your town, share your bed, and raise our children.” She narrowed her gaze. “In return, you promise never to put me back in the asylum, and that you’ll fight anyone who tries. Also extend that promise to Violet.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “If anything should happen to me, you’ll raise the child. You’ll never collect the reward that’s offered for me and I’ll never collect yours.” She paused before adding, “One last thing—you’ll let me leave come spring if this marriage doesn’t work.”
Surprise shifted in his brown eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected that last part. “You have my word on every stipulation.” His attention went to the gun on her hip and she thought she saw a flash of admiration. “I only have one simple request. You have to promise never to shoot me, no matter how mad you get.”
“That depends on what you do.” She leaned close, putting her lips next to his ear. “Hurt Violet and I’ll kill you in a heartbeat.”
Clay chuckled softly. “Trust me, I’ll never be fool enough to cross you. Nor will I ever cause that little girl grief. That’s a vow I’ll never break.”
“Then we’re clear.” She straightened in her chair.
Clay leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table. “Are you crazy, Tally?”
She allowed a smile. “Some would say so. At times, I wonder. Back in Deliverance Canyon, I’d often wake in the dead of night and stand in the moonlight, letting the breeze brush my face. I needed the reassurance that I wasn’t back in that hellhole.”
“Do you mind if I ask why you were put there?”
“Dear Stepmother told them that I was a sexual deviant and preyed on children.” She hated her strained voice.
“I can tell you’re not. I assume she had a motive.”
Tally’s voice turned cold and hard. “My father was a wealthy man. He had quite a large estate that included land, money, and other possessions. When he died, she wanted me out of the way. I’d seen too much, had too many suspicions about mysterious happenings on the ranch. She put something in my food that made me deathly ill and unable to fight her or speak. Some men loaded me into a wagon, and Lucinda drove me to the Creedmore Lunatic Asylum.”
“I’ve heard of the place. Most never escape—except in a coffin. You were lucky, Tally.”
“Determination helps. I was there a year and suffered—” Her voice broke. She forced herself to calm and continued. “Suffered crimes you couldn’t imagine. But it only strengthened my resolve. I watched and waited for the right opportunity, and when it came, I took it. Five of us broke out that night. I’ve been back several times, once recently, for others like me.”
“Why do they want to imprison perfectly healthy women? What do they gain?”
“Money. Families pay a good deal to get rid of women—and children—they don’t want. Men at Creedmore are getting rich off them, and it’s become a big, rotten business.” She watched his eyes darken, his anger build.
“Why was Violet there?” His voice was tight, raspy.
“Her parents thought raising a blind child was too much trouble.”
“Dear God! Such fools.” Clay got to his feet so suddenly the chair toppled over. He picked it up and stood at the window, looking out the wavy glass.
She didn’t know what the tall, broad-shouldered outlaw was staring at, but the muscles of his jaw worked and he clenched his fists hanging at his sides. Every tendon had stretched tight, like a wild beast ready to spring.
Could such a man love her? He had his town to occupy him, his thirst for amnesty, his need to dispense justice burning like a bright flame inside.
An ache filled Tally. Could he make a little room in his heart for her?
She bit back a sob that tried to escape. Would she ever find someone who loved her fully and completely? Or would she have to settle for less, as she’d done most of her life? She was tired of settling. She wanted to be all of someone’s world, not just a small part. She yearned to fill a man’s heart so full that his love for her spilled out all over the place.
A glance at the bed—hardly wide enough for one person, the ropes taut beneath the mattress—created a bead of moisture that trickled down her spine. It bore resemblance to the one in her cell at Creedmore. Unable to breathe, she jerked to her feet.
“This will not work, Clay Colby.”
Four
Tally hurried from the dugout to where Luke and Josie Legend stood with Violet. “Luke, you have to take me back.”
Clay raced out after her, hollering, “Now hold on. What did I do?”
Luke straightened, the silver conchos on his pants catching the light. “Un momento, por favor. Give Clay some time. I know you can work it out.”
“Tell me what the damn problem is.” Clay reached to touch her shoulder before letting his hand fall. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. I said I want you and Violet. I’ll make things better.”
“That bed won’t work and there’s no place for Violet. I w
ant to get my own before we wed. That’s all.” Tally watched deep relief wash over the hard angles of Clay’s scarred face and guilt tugged at her heart.
She softened her voice. “It’s just the bed—not you, Clay. A woman has to have certain things.”
“Well, I certainly understand that.” Josie set her long, blond hair in motion with a vehement nod. “A bed is important.” Her eyes softened when she glanced at Luke and added, “But not always the most important.”
Tally had no trouble reading her meaning. When you were with the person who loved you, nothing else mattered. But Tally didn’t love Clay. She didn’t even know him yet. Right now, this was nothing more than an arrangement.
Either with or without Clay’s help, she meant to free all the women in Creedmore and find new lives for those in Deliverance Canyon. That was what haunted her, drove her every waking moment, and all she’d thought about for over two years.
Luke paced back and forth, scowling, muttering rapid-fire words in Spanish. Then he paused and switched to English. “Josie and I can go back for it. There’s no reason why you can’t stay here and get acquainted. Besides, it’s too dangerous with the men looking for you.”
Of all people, she knew the trouble stalking her. Not for the first time, she regretted asking Luke to take even greater risks on her behalf. They’d been forced to take a roundabout route coming here to lose the two riders trailing them. Could she really ask more of him? Of Josie, while she was so swollen with child?
The answer was no.
Clay turned her to face him. “I’ll build you a suitable bed and one for Violet. I guess I never gave a lot of thought to that and I’m kicking myself. I’ll have one to your liking by tomorrow’s end. Trust me, pretty lady.”
Tally met Clay’s eyes. They reminded her of the first turn of dark, rich soil after a winter’s sleep. Trust? She trusted no one. “I’m just nervous. You’ve worked so hard, and here I am complaining.”
Clay’s hard body loomed over her, making her feel so small. The scent of him couldn’t rise over the smoke that still lingered in the air, but she thought he’d probably smell like sagebrush and leather. He had callouses on his hands from trying to make the town into something, and she read hope on his face.
“We’ll work this out. Just don’t give up on me. On us.” His words came out raspy.
“I promise.”
Luke smiled. “See? Magnífico. Give me a list and I’ll bring everything next time I come. For tonight, Tally and Violet can sleep in the dugout. When would you like to be married?”
“I just love weddings. I can sing.” Josie sighed and laid her head against Luke’s chest.
“Oh no you won’t, princesa.” Luke smoothed her hair. “You don’t sing for anyone but me. Those bawdy songs aren’t for weddings.”
Josie picked some lint from her husband’s dark shirtsleeve and raised her eyes innocently. “The next time we get married, I hope you’re awake for it, sweetheart, or I’ll just have to sing.”
Tally loved watching the two, who were still pretty much newlyweds. Over the months, she’d picked up some tips from them on how to make a marriage work. Mostly it seemed to be mutual respect that made a partnership work. Her gaze moved to Clay, who hid a grin.
He cleared his throat. “We’ve sort of gotten off the subject. Tally, when would you like to be married?”
“Sunrise has always been my favorite time of the day. Sunrises are new and fresh and full of promise.” She smiled up at Clay. “It’ll be perfect.”
The deep worry in his eyes left Tally shaken. He seemed afraid that she’d bolt like all the others, but she couldn’t blame him. That would scar anyone. She’d surprise him.
“Your wish is my command,” he said softly.
“Then sunrise it is.” Luke scanned the fledgling town. “Where’s Ridge Steele? I don’t care what he says, he’s still a preacher and I need to talk to him about the service.”
“He’s with Jack and the two prisoners.” Clay glanced toward Montana’s former living quarters. “I need to see about them.”
“I’ll go with you.” Luke kissed Josie’s cheek, saying he wouldn’t be long.
“While you men do that, me and Josie will fix supper.” Tally glanced around for Violet and found the eight-year-old sitting with Bullet, petting his soft fur. That Violet had strayed from Tally’s side was a good sign.
Under a deep cinnamon sky, Tally took in the tall walls of the canyon, the narrow entrance that could keep out the curious, listened to the creak of the windmill that soothed her ragged nerves. It was peaceful here, and trouble seemed far away.
But would it stay like this or would her past come after her? And would she be ready?
* * *
The campfire burned low and the women had long gone to bed. Clay sat smoking and talking with Luke about rebuilding the town. “I’ll get busy making more saddles and halters to trade you for more lumber,” Clay said. “And I finished those new boots you wanted.”
“No one is a better saddler than you. I can’t wait to see them.” Luke pitched a stick into the fire. “Looking at this rubble—it would’ve been easy for you to ride out and not look back.”
Clay took a drag of his hand-rolled cigarette and stared at the glowing end. “I couldn’t. Others depend on me.”
He’d make Tally Shannon proud to be married to him if it took the rest of his life—and he’d pray she didn’t leave come spring.
Why the hell had he agreed to that anyway? It was as good as accepting their marriage had an expiration date.
One by one, Ridge, Jack, and three other men joined them. Ridge passed around a bottle. Bullet moseyed along and flopped down at Clay’s feet for some petting.
“I need to put that bed together for Tally. Is any of that extra lumber still stashed next to the saloon?” Clay asked.
Jack leaned back against a stump and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Yeah, it’s still there, and Skeet hauled in a fresh load of hay yesterday.”
“Thanks, Malloy.” The man had proven invaluable at keeping the horses shod and cared for. Clay stared into the blue-and-orange flames. “I hope you’re all coming to the wedding. She wants it tomorrow at sunrise.”
Jack rubbed his leg around the spot where he’d caught a posse’s bullet a while back. He took a swig from the bottle and passed it. “Ridge and I won’t miss seeing you tie the knot, brother.”
“That Tally Shannon is sure a looker,” Malloy said. “I think I’ll start writing to some of those women. Sometimes in the dead of night, I wake up with loneliness gnawing on me like a starving coyote. This is no kind of life.”
Ridge reached into his pocket and drew out a letter, handing it to Luke. “Deliver this to Savannah when you’re back in Deliverance Canyon. I hope one day she’ll marry me. Just not sure she’s brave enough yet.”
Jack and a man named Dallas Hawk also handed letters over. Like Ridge, Jack was corresponding with one of Tally’s friends living in Deliverance Canyon. Hawk was writing to a woman in prison with a year left on her sentence. Hawk seemed to feel a kinship with her. There’d been a rumor that the big outlaw had a fondness for stage holdups, but Dallas never did talk much.
Luke and Josie didn’t know what their bride service meant to men like them, lonely men who yearned for a bit of softness to balance this hard, unforgiving land.
Clay glanced at his dugout, where Tally lay sleeping. His lady had haunted eyes that spoke of unbearable suffering and pain. He’d caught winces when she walked. The diamond-shaped tattoo on her cheek said the rest. A mist blurred his vision. He wished he could remove that from her, save all the women like her. He itched to ride down to Stephenville and burn the Creedmore Lunatic Asylum to the ground.
For Tally, he’d do anything.
“How did you get rid of the bounty hanging over your head, Luke?” Ridge asked. “Last I
saw, it was two thousand dollars. I’d appreciate any tips.”
The firelight flickered across Luke’s tight, grim features, and Clay was glad the half-white, half-Spanish man was a friend.
“Wasn’t easy.” Luke scowled into the night. “I paid back every bit of money I stole. And I finally found the man who’d framed me for that federal judge’s murder. I chased him for two years—I’d just about given up catching him. In the end, he’s the one who shot and almost killed me.”
“I’m glad you survived. You’re doing a lot of good now.” Ridge’s voice held a tinge of sadness. “My case is different from yours. I can’t bring those men back to life. Me, Jack, and Clay are going to try writing the governor for a pardon.”
“That’s a great start.” Luke glanced toward the wagon where Josie lay. “Having a family is worth doing anything for. Do you ever get any troublemakers from Mobeetie, what with it being only a day and a half’s ride?”
Clay had always called that haven for raw, ruthless men Hidetown and probably always would, no matter what name others bestowed on it. “They aren’t welcome. They come, we run them out.” He stared into the flames. “Luke, do you mind taking those two men of Montana’s with you when you leave? I don’t know what to do with them. Can’t turn them loose and can’t let them stay.”
“Sure.” Luke chuckled. “I’ll drop them off with my brother Sam in Lost Point. Sometimes it sure helps having a lawman in the family. I’d be surprised if those men don’t have a bounty on their heads. If they do, I’ll bring you the reward, Clay.”
“It’ll sure come in handy. With enough money, we might be able to afford to buy all the building supplies we need.” Clay had never even considered a reward. “To be honest, Ridge and Jack probably shot those two. I was busy with Montana.”
“It was a group effort,” Jack growled. “Besides, in this town, what belongs to one belongs to all.”