The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride

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The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride Page 7

by Linda Broday


  The flashback brought bile into Tally’s throat. She’d failed Agatha. But she wouldn’t fail anyone else. She set her jaw. She’d save those she loved and find justice for those who died.

  Tally turned back to the scene playing out two hundred yards away. The anger in Clay’s movements, his explosive reaction toward Tarver and his minions, charged through the walls and penetrated her as surely as a knife blade.

  Clay had admitted he was wanted for murder. She didn’t know how many men he’d killed, but something told her that if Slade so much as blinked, another name would be added to the total.

  “Please don’t scar your soul any worse, Clay.” Tally moved back from the window before the riders happened to catch movement. “Not for me.”

  * * *

  The darkness Clay fought to keep at bay burst from its locked cage. His finger tightened on the trigger. He only had one thought—to wipe the sneer off Gold Tooth’s miserable face. Behind Clay, the line of outlaws stood with weapons drawn on the two still on their mounts.

  “You told me exactly what I wanted to know—Tally Shannon is here,” the man spat.

  Clay leaned forward until his nose almost touched the bastard’s. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he said in silky, quiet voice. “I’d as soon blow your head off as not for what you said about any woman.”

  The leather creaked when Jack shifted in his saddle. “He always reacts this way when men speak ill of a lady. Don’t mean one thing except he holds womenfolk in high regard.”

  Clay moved the gun from Gold Tooth’s forehead and shoved the barrel in the man’s mouth, loosening a few teeth. “Unless you want to eat some lead right now, you’d best apologize for your indecent remarks.”

  Pollard Finch yelled, “For God’s sake, Slade, do it! Or we won’t get out of here alive.”

  “Two seconds, or you’ll sit at the devil’s table,” Clay growled. “What’ll it be?”

  Slade tried to speak around the gun barrel. Clay moved it a little so his tongue could work.

  “I’m sorry.” Slade spit blood along with his words, but his eyes were still defiant.

  “Louder!” Clay yelled. “And say exactly what you’re sorry for.”

  “Do it!” Pollard yelled again.

  “For God’s sake, apologize and let’s get the hell out of here!” the stocky rider cried, his hostile expression long gone and replaced by panic.

  The immediate rage Clay had felt intensified. He wouldn’t be able to hold himself back much longer. The horrible mistake he’d made at fourteen would not be repeated here—or ever again. No innocent people would die because he messed up. He would protect Tally and Violet to the last drop of blood.

  Deadly calm filled him. “What’ll it be?”

  “I’m sorry for disrespecting a woman!” Slade screamed.

  Satisfied, Clay yanked the man from the dirt and pushed him toward his horse. “Ride. If we ever see any of you here again, there’ll be no talking. You’ll be dead before you can blink. Consider this your only warning.”

  Without a word, the trio turned their horses and galloped from Devil’s Crossing as though a pack of flaming hounds of hell were chasing them.

  Clay kept his gun cocked and ready to fire until they’d vanished from sight, then he holstered his weapon and strode to the dugout. Tally stood near the window, her gun in her hand, eyes blank, expression unreadable.

  “They’re gone.” He stepped closer. “I doubt they’ll be back—at least not for a while.”

  “I couldn’t see the men, but I recognized their horses. Slade Tarver rides the grullo, and his friends own a pinto and dapple gray.” Tally holstered her gun. “The one you put in the dirt is the worst. I was afraid he’d kill you. Slade Tarver is as mean as they come. He always carries a knife in each boot and looks for reasons to use them.”

  Clay allowed a tight grin. “I kept him a little too busy to get to them.”

  Following the sound of their voices, Violet stole from her cubbyhole and launched herself at Tally, clinging to her waist. Clay wanted to reach for her but knew that would frighten her more. The child was shaking, and despite Tally’s calm exterior, he imagined she was a mess of nerves inside as well.

  “Come here, Tally.” He stretched out a hand to her. “You can relax.”

  “I can never let my guard down.” Ice coated her crisp words, but she was clearly shaken. “The other two men were Pollard Finch and Jacob Abram. They’re sheep, for the most part. Tarver has no trouble getting them to do what he wants.”

  “I have bullets for sheep as well as their leader.” Clay reached for her again, but she seemed frozen, as though afraid to abandon her post at the window.

  “Is he hurt, Mama?” Violet whispered.

  Tally met Clay’s gaze. “No, honey. Would you like to see for yourself?”

  Silence filled the space between them like fragile spun glass as Clay waited for Violet’s answer. He was afraid to take a deep breath for fear the glass would shatter.

  Finally, Violet whispered, “I’m scared.”

  The air left Clay’s lungs. If those bastards did this… He shook with a need to make someone pay. “That’s all right, baby girl. You can go at your own speed.”

  And if she never took him into her heart? He’d find some way to accept it.

  Tally must’ve sensed his great disappointment. She laid a hand on Violet’s shoulder. “Want to come help me check on the goats to see if the babies are with their mamas?”

  “They must be real scared.” Violet took Tally’s hand.

  “Don’t wander too far,” Clay warned. He sat in the emptiness after the door closed behind them, feeling like pounding something. He had to saddle up and take a ride. He wouldn’t rest until he knew for sure Pollard, Slade, and Abram were far away from here.

  Tally’s and Violet’s lives depended on him now, and he took the job very seriously. As he climbed on Sundown’s back, he recalled Tally’s question last night about pet names. Angelique Pascale, the hot-blooded Frenchwoman in Cimarron who had taught him to dance, had used many whispered endearments. She’d told him women adore men who spoke pretty words to them. He’d gotten quite an education from her. One phrase stuck in his mind.

  “Ma ange guerrier,” he whispered, even though he knew he butchered the French.

  Tally was his warrior angel.

  Wild and untamed, like the raw Texas land, ready to battle evil forces.

  She was all that and more. And he wanted her. Oh Lord, how he longed to make her his. But she wasn’t ready. She still fought too many demons.

  Until she purged Creedmore and those memories, he’d wait.

  However long it took.

  Nine

  That night, with Violet asleep, Tally danced with Clay again. Each time he held her in his arms, she forgot about the pain in her feet. She’d suffer anything to feel his heartbeat next to hers. He held her, gentle, as though she was fine china. Lord knew she hadn’t been that in a long, long while.

  Damn her inability to trust what her heart saw! She wanted to so badly.

  Despite his large body, he was very light on his feet. But then he loved to move and had confessed as much. Would that carry forward into making love? One day, on her terms, she’d find out, but she couldn’t put him off forever.

  She smiled up at him and got lost in his shadowed brown gaze. Tonight, his eyes weren’t laughing. Instead, they were somber and deadly serious. “Is the scene with Tarver and his men still on your mind, Clay?”

  “You don’t know how much I wanted to kill them and feed their carcasses to the coyotes. Only one thing kept me from it—your face when I closed my eyes. But it was a mistake letting them live. We haven’t seen the last of them and that worries me.”

  It did a sight more than worry her—it terrified. They would return. Oh God, she needed a plan. Where to go, what
to do.

  He twirled Tally around, and they bumped first into the table and then into a chair.

  “I know.” She swallowed her panic. “But as I watched from the window, I prayed you’d fight the urge.” Tally tried to smile, but her mouth wouldn’t curve. “Shooting them would only have added more scars to your soul. I know what it’s like.”

  Clay stiffened in surprise and stopped. “I should’ve guessed you had taken a life, since you wear that gun. I assume you’re quite an expert shot.”

  “It’s nothing I like to talk about. I only killed to protect myself and the other escapees.” Tally traced the two-inch scar on his cheek. “How did you get this?”

  “A saloon fight in Cimarron. A customer lit into one of the working women with his fists. I slung him across the floor. He came up with a broken whiskey bottle.” He gave her a wry smile. “My reflexes were dulled by alcohol that night.”

  It appeared her cowboy was a defender of women, but then, she’d half-suspected that already. Her wedding ring caught the light and winked on her finger. A tiny grin curved her lips. “Let’s go to bed.”

  He brushed her cheek with a knuckle, his eyes darkening. His fresh scent swam around her, intoxicating and exciting. “Only if you wear your hair loose, my angel warrior.”

  The unfamiliar term jolted her. “What did you just say?”

  “My angel warrior, and that describes you perfectly.” He lightly brushed a fingertip across her lips. “You’re far more than anything I ever could’ve dreamed up.”

  His words touched her. Would it be so wrong to let down her guard? She’d thought men with compassion and honor had died with her father and brother. Either Clay was skilled at hiding his true nature, or he was exactly as he appeared. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d turn on her in anger one day when she least expected it.

  While it didn’t seem possible at this moment, she knew men often changed over time.

  “I’m undeserving of admiration, Clay,” she said quietly. She had such ugliness inside.

  He pushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. “The first time I laid eyes on you, my mouth got all dry and my poor heart about jumped out of my chest. You have a kind of beauty I’ve never seen before, that comes from the inside and spreads out. Now, I’ll check on things while you get ready for bed,” he murmured and turned toward the door.

  Her gaze followed his lean form. The door closed softly, taking the air with him.

  As she changed and brushed her hair, she thought of the different stages of her life so far. With her parents, she’d been a child, learning about the world. In Creedmore, she’d discovered cruelty far beyond what the mind could comprehend. To survive, she’d had to quit living in dreams and face harsh reality.

  Then there was life in Deliverance Canyon with the women like her. She’d been forced to keep watch every second because their lives and safety depended on her.

  Now, she was married, with yet another facet of life to learn. This one wasn’t so simple. So far, she loved sharing Clay’s world with him, but who knew when it would evaporate like smoke through a keyhole? She couldn’t let down her guard. Not for a moment. Still, his soft endearment had touched her.

  “My angel warrior,” she murmured, putting a finger to her lips where a tiny smile formed.

  She couldn’t wait to lie next to her dreamer’s hard body, to feel his gentle breath fanning her face, his hands touching her. For a few precious hours, she could pretend that this world didn’t include men like Slade Tarver.

  She hadn’t always been so distrustful. But then there had been Rowena. A fellow patient, Rowena had befriended Tally, winning her trust by caring for her after a beating. During a weak moment, Tally shared her plans to escape. Only, when she’d put her plans in motion and crawled from a bottom-floor window, Slade Tarver was waiting—along with Pollard Finch.

  They’d dragged her away, laughing about how quickly Rowena had spilled the plan.

  They’d strapped her to a table and struck the bottoms of her feet with a board until she lost consciousness. When they finally released her, she was weak and in agony, unable to walk. It had taken months to recover.

  Lesson learned. Never, ever trust anyone.

  Now, Tally wondered why she’d let her need for a gentle touch override everything she knew.

  One hard fact hit her—if Slade and his followers got her again, she wouldn’t survive.

  Her hands shook. Evil had invaded the supposed safety of Devil’s Crossing. Although Clay had promised to protect her and Violet with his life, he couldn’t. He didn’t know what he was up against.

  Now that Tarver had found her, she stood at a crossroads. Stay? Or leave?

  Sweat formed on her palms. The truth was, there had only been one safe place since Creedmore.

  She really hated to leave the new life she’d found with Clay, but she had to see things as they really were instead of how she wished them to be. She quickly re-braided her hair.

  Needles of pain suddenly pierced her chest, and for a long moment, her breath hung suspended. She pressed her hands over her heart and willed the episode to pass before Clay came back inside. Cold sweat trickled down her spine. She focused on her breathing, and minutes crept by before she calmed her racing heartbeat and the pain left. Would whatever this was one day take her life? That seemed something she ought to consider.

  But later. She had far too much work to do first. She had to get Violet to safety.

  When Clay returned, she lay in bed, facing the wall, pretending to be asleep. But instead of relief that he didn’t bother her, she found her heart crying for his strong arms around her. Craving for his tender touch, his lips on her skin, kept her awake.

  Tally lay stiffly, praying for the morn. She knew what she had to do, but that fact didn’t make the decision welcome.

  * * *

  At the soft whisper of dawn, Tally rose with Clay and started breakfast. While the bacon cooked, she dressed Violet and combed the girl’s hair. They spoke quietly as a plan formed in Tally’s mind. But first, she had to pretend it was a normal day full of work.

  Guilt gripped her as the small stone in her ring sparkled in the light. She tried to push it away, but the knowledge of her coming betrayal persisted. She should leave the ring behind. But she couldn’t bear to remove it. The silver circle was a symbol of hope, and where she was going, little of that existed.

  Tally opened the door and called to Clay. He came in and kissed her cheek as he did each time he entered or left. Immense guilt flooded over her.

  Clay sat at the table and reached for a piece of bacon, putting two on Violet’s plate. “I put bacon on your plate. Eat up, sweet girl.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Clay.” Violet almost smiled. “One day when I get real brave, I’m gonna see what you look like.”

  Clay’s eyes swung to Tally, and she could tell how Violet’s attempt at conversation moved him. The question in his gaze prompted her to explain. “Her fingertips are her eyes, and she sees by running them across things she’s curious about.”

  “Baby girl, you’re already one of the bravest people I know. Let me know when you want to see me.” He cleared his throat. “Tally, what are your plans today?”

  His question caught her off guard and she swallowed guilt. “I think Violet and I will go look for berries. I’d like to make a pie.” She glanced up with innocent eyes. “That is, if I can borrow a horse.”

  “Sure.” He shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth. “I’ll need mine, but we have a few extras. I’ll rustle one up. I don’t want you going far, though—we don’t know who might be lurking about. You should find some wild plums a short distance from here. I saw them the other day. But I doubt you’ll find any berries. Those will be up near the Canadian River and it’s too near Hidetown, which is full of dangerous men.”

  “It appears plums will have to do.”
Tally rose to get the coffeepot and refilled Clay’s cup. “We have lots to do here to get ready for the new lumber.” She thought of her furniture, the mattress Luke was supposed to bring, and hoped he wouldn’t be upset to find all his efforts wasted. “And you?”

  “I’ve got to ride out to check on a friend in a camp nearby. He was sick last time I passed by.” Worry crossed his brown eyes. Clay would be the kind of man who cared about everyone. “Out here, it’s easy to die with no one the wiser.”

  “When you get this town built, filled with businesses and people, it’ll be much better. You’re doing a good thing here.”

  He covered her hand with his and she found the gentle touch almost more than she could bear. She was the biggest traitor. “Tally, I’ll make this a good, safe place to live in. I swear it.” His deep voice sent warmth through her but couldn’t melt the layer of ice inside.

  Warrior angel? She scoffed. Warriors didn’t run. They stayed and fought, giving their all.

  But she also had Violet to consider.

  “I know you will.” She wished she could stay to help him. A voice whispered in her ear, urging her to tell him. He trusted her. She’d said solemn vows, given her word to stay and make this marriage work. But that was before Tarver. He’d be back, only a matter of time. She knew the bastard inside and out.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he rose and kissed her cheek, then lightly touched the top of Violet’s head and went out the door whistling.

  The sound meant he was happy.

  A hard lump sat in Tally’s throat. Leaving would devastate him.

  A sudden stillness froze everything inside her. By coming to Devil’s Crossing, she’d drawn trouble to his door. Because of her, he was now in Tarver’s crosshairs. She couldn’t let Clay lose everything he yearned for—possibly even his life.

  Dear God! She clapped her hand over her mouth to block a rising sob. She had to leave—for everyone’s sake.

  Swallowing past the blockage in her throat, she hurried with the dishes and straightened up the dugout. Then she stuffed a bag with their belongings and took Violet’s hand. “Let’s go, honey.”

 

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