The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  Jack nudged the preacher. “I think it’s your turn, Ridge.”

  “Hey, I had the afternoon shift.” Ridge glanced at Skeet Malloy and drawled, “If memory serves, you haven’t taken a shift today.”

  Clay tossed a stick into the fire. “I don’t care who does it,” he snapped. “I just want someone up there. I’m guarding from midnight to dawn. No one had better get through unless it’s someone we know. We’re keeping Tally and baby girl safe.”

  His exploding anger brought mute stares from the group but Clay was past caring. Misery wound through him. He stared toward the lit dugout. Everything he cared about was in there. What were Tally and Violet doing? If Tally wasn’t coming, why wouldn’t she let baby girl come and sit by the fire? He’d just begun to make headway with her.

  For two cents, he’d knock on the door and ask why.

  Just then, Tally and Violet stepped out. Tally was struggling to carry something and had no hands to guide Violet. He noticed the wince she tried to hide as she walked. Clay jerked to his feet and rushed to help as unexpected happiness over a kept promise surged inside him.

  “Here, let me either have that pan or take baby girl.”

  “Hi, Mr. Clay,” Violet said, angling her head toward the sound of his voice, clutching Bullet, slowly feeling her way across the uneven ground. She stumbled and went down on one knee. Clay picked her up.

  “Hi, yourself, sweetheart.”

  Tally chewed her bottom lip. “I should’ve called for you to come help, but I thought I could manage.” She glanced up. “I made a surprise. I hope you like it.”

  She didn’t smile but that was all right. She was here and Clay was up for the challenge. The men jumped to their feet and one offered her his seat.

  The firelight brought out golden strands woven through the red and made Tally’s hair a dazzling shimmer in the glow. “Thank you, Mr. Hawk, but I’m not ready to sit just yet. I have more to bring out.”

  Again, he noticed pain crossing her face and wished she’d take Hawk up on the chair.

  Regardless, she went around the circle and said hello to each, touching a shoulder here, an arm there. Clay watched the men’s happy smiles at being treated so politely. He knew they treasured each word and noticed how the mood had suddenly shifted from somber to happy.

  He carefully took the cast-iron pan that was wrapped in flour-sack dish towels. Setting it on a small table they’d brought out from the saloon, he took Violet’s hand. “I’ll keep her with me while you finish. Or tell me what you want and I’ll go get it.”

  “No, that’s fine. There isn’t much else. You stay here,” she insisted, and told Violet the same.

  His gaze followed her trim figure as she strode back to the abode. The soft sway of her hips with each stride set his heart thudding. Tally was one fine-looking woman. And she belonged to him—as long as he could earn her trust before spring.

  Twelve

  The peach cobbler was the best Clay had ever tasted. Of course, the fact that Tally sat beside him and baby girl seemed to have shed a lot of fear of him might’ve had something to do with it. A warm feeling wrapped around him like a honeysuckle vine in summer.

  Dallas Hawk set his empty bowl on the table and reached for his fiddle. He drew his bow slowly across the strings, and the makeshift town was soon filled with sweet music.

  Clay stood and held out his hand to Tally. “May I have this dance, pretty lady?”

  Her eyes darkened in the shadows. “Yes, indeed, Mr. Colby.”

  Despite the formality, Tally was light in his arms. He could hardly breathe with her so near. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her sweet fragrance. Her curves molded against his hard body as though she’d been created just for him. The night was just about perfect. A full moon came out and shone down, blessing them with silvery rays of light.

  Clay held her close, and they glided effortlessly across what remained of the grass burned by the heat of the summer sun. The open space allowed them to make sweeping circles for once.

  He placed his mouth on her temple, breathing deeply and counting his blessings. “Thank you for this.”

  “I know how you set such store by dancing. And I like it too. I had forgotten how happy it makes me.”

  “I think the moon is jealous of your beauty. You don’t know the picture you make. I’m glad you wore your hair down.” The ends of it brushed across his arm. He inhaled the lavender fragrance, pleased that she enjoyed using the outdoor bathing closet.

  He twirled her around with one hand and she laughed. The sound made him feel like letting out a whoop. He brought her back into his arms and she melted against him, so warm and tantalizing, with just a hint of danger lurking underneath. Strange how a change of scenery made such a difference in her mood. He closed his eyes and imagined running his hand over her silky body.

  A sudden thought struck him. He stopped. “I just remembered your feet. You should sit down.”

  Tally shook her head. “No. When you’re holding me, I don’t feel my feet. It’s like I’m dancing on a fluffy cloud. They’ll be fine for a little while.”

  Her admission sent happiness cartwheeling through him. “Good.”

  A hunger rose inside, more powerful than any he’d ever known. He longed to make her his in every way. Maybe this was a start. His self-imposed exile might not last too long, not if he had his way.

  They danced to another tune and Clay relished every second with her in his arms, her heart beating next to his.

  Tally glanced up. “I forgot to ask. How was the friend you went to check on earlier?”

  “He’s up and around. I was glad to see it.” Clay twirled her around and brought her back against him. “I apologize for my anger. If I’d known what Tarver had done to you, I’d have put a bullet in his head when I had the chance.”

  The breeze lifted a tendril of hair and dropped it across her face. Clay smoothed it back, watching her expression darken as it seemed to do each time mention was made of the man.

  “He’ll be back to even the score, Clay.” Her voice was flat. Resigned.

  “Let’s not ruin tonight. We came to dance.” Clay swung her back into time to the music.

  If and when the bunch did come, they’d find his Remington cocked and loaded.

  But for now, he soaked up the moonlight, the fragrance of the land, and his warrior angel pressed against him. Ahhh. He could get real spoiled.

  After his dance with Tally ended, each of the men clamored for a turn. That they treated her with respect, like a treasure, made Clay happy. They all dreamed of homes and family just like he did.

  He sat next to Violet and watched the rapture on her face. Maybe she hadn’t heard music in a while—or ever.

  “Want to dance, baby girl?” he asked.

  “I want to, but…I’m scared.”

  “Of me?”

  “Will you hurt me?” she asked in a small voice.

  The air left him as though someone had driven a fist into his gut. He took her hands. “I will never, ever cause you any hurt. You know why?”

  She shook her head.

  “Because you’re my little girl now and I love you.”

  “Nobody ever loved me before except Mama Tally. My real daddy said I was the devil’s child. Are you sure you love me?”

  “I’m sure. How about a dance?”

  “Maybe for a minute. Can my mama see me?”

  “Yes, she’s very close and she’s smiling.”

  “Okay.” The child waited for his touch with a slow smile stretching across her face.

  Clay set her on his boots and held her secure. As he moved to the music, he watched the joy in the child’s face. Though she never complained, her dark world had to be terrifying at times. He could take a lesson in courage from her.

  Violet raised her face. “Music makes me feel like Ci
nderella.”

  “Cinderella?”

  “Mama tells me stories, and one of them is about a girl named Cinderella.”

  “Oh, I see.” The corners of Clay’s mouth twitched. “Does this story have anything to do with cinders?”

  “No. It’s about a girl who meets a handsome prince, but he won’t look at her because she’s very poor. Her fairy godmother gives her some glass shoes except she loses one. Then the handsome prince finds the shoe and they get married. Kinda like you, Mr. Clay. When I was lost, you came and found me.”

  “I sure did.” A lump blocked his throat.

  What had come over the child to be so talkative? Not that he would complain. This was the start he’d hoped for. Maybe it would get easier with the ice broken.

  Violet didn’t dance long before she wanted to find Tally. Clay took her to where her mama was sitting, giving her feet a rest.

  Tally kissed her cheek. “Did you have a good time, honey?”

  “Uh-huh, I liked it.”

  Happiness burst inside Clay’s chest. He was making headway.

  The moon rose higher and higher in the sky until at last the party ended. Dallas Hawk put away his fiddle and the men adjourned to the makeshift saloon.

  Clay carried a sleepy Violet and walked Tally home. At the door, he set the girl on her feet just inside the dugout.

  “Good night, Mr. Clay.” Violet yawned. “Thank you for the music.”

  “You’re welcome, baby girl.”

  “Honey, I’ll be along in a minute. Just sit at the table. It’s six steps to the right.” Tally propped the empty cobbler pan on her hip and pulled the door shut, leaving herself and Clay alone. “Thank you, Clay. I had a wonderful time. It was almost as if I was a girl again, at home on my daddy’s ranch. I’ve never had anyone court me.”

  “Then get used to it, because this wasn’t a one-time thing.”

  He brushed a knuckle across her tattooed cheek, wishing like hell he could remove the constant reminder of the hellish place. He wondered if there was a way to take it off. If so, that would free not only Tally, but the other women who had been branded the same way. But there was no doctor around to ask.

  “You don’t know how you’ve changed my life already, Tally. You and Violet have given me a reason to get up in the mornings and double my efforts on this town.”

  The moonlight scampered through her hair as she met his gaze. “I’m glad we help.”

  “A sight more than that. Loneliness and death walked in my shadow each moment of every day. I used to curl up with a bottle of whiskey at night and escape into oblivion.” He allowed a grin. “I’ve lost my taste for liquor. Now, I crave the scent of lavender and your beautiful face.”

  Tally laid a light palm against his jaw. “You don’t have to flatter me with pretty words. I’m glad you found what you need, but I can’t take any credit. Thank you for tonight. I loved it.”

  “This is only the beginning.” He moved closer and lowered his head to press his lips lightly to hers. The kiss rekindled sleeping embers, and sudden heat flared through his body.

  Oh, for one night with his warrior angel, skin touching skin.

  Feeling the wild beating of her heart and knowing he’d caused it.

  To make love until dawn.

  He explored the smooth lines of her back, the ridges of her spine, his breath mingling with hers. The sweet taste of peaches met his tongue, adding to the special, unexpected moment.

  Tally gripped his vest with her free hand, a promise whispering in the gentle breeze.

  Ending the kiss, Clay pushed back disappointment that things could go no further tonight. He couldn’t live the rest of his days with hunger constantly gnawing on him. Still, he wouldn’t regret giving Tally space, and time, to trust him. She needed room to discover who he was and learn that she could believe in him.

  He knew the cobbler, the dancing, the kissing had done wonders for him. With luck, it had for her too. Maybe, just maybe, he would be back in her bed before too much longer.

  * * *

  Clay kept watch all night, listening for trouble and ready to take action if it called. To while away the hours, he found a hefty branch of a mesquite tree. After stripping away the bark and smoothing it out by the light of the moon, he adjusted the length to fit Violet. It would do quite well and he’d start teaching her how to use it in the morning.

  Not that he really knew much about the teaching part, since he’d only known one blind man. He’d have to rely on logic and pray it would be enough. Somehow, he’d teach the girl to be independent. That was important.

  Just as the sky began to lighten and the town stirred, he heard the jangle of traces. Minutes later, he noticed a heavily laden wagon approaching. He made out two women and an old man, and they appeared harmless enough. He grabbed Violet’s walking stick and scrambled down from his perch to plant himself in front of the barriers. The obstructions amounted to wagons loaded with hay that could be easily rolled aside.

  “Morning,” he said. “Can I help you?”

  The old man removed his hat and scratched his slick, bald head. It appeared his snow-white hair had slid off and his mouth and his chin had caught it. “Morning, sir. Would this be Devil’s Crossing?”

  Surprise jolted Clay. No one but outlaws knew of this place, and these people definitely weren’t the lawless sort. Clay glanced at the towering load of belongings. If one thing shifted, it was all coming down. “You’ve found it. Do you have business here?”

  “We’re coming to settle,” said the old woman sitting next to the man. “We heard what you’re trying to do here, and we want to help.”

  The old man patted her hand. “I’m Tobias January and this is my wife, Belle.”

  A younger woman sitting next to Belle lowered her head covering. “Hi, Clay.”

  Clay moved closer to get a better look. “Rebel? Rebel Avery?”

  “For a moment, I thought you might’ve forgotten me.” Rebel laughed and leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling. “I’ve missed you. Cimarron wasn’t the same after you left.”

  “You mean quieter?” Clay had done his share of hell-raising and had kept the undertaker in business.

  “That too, but I meant to say boring. You livened that town up. When Tobias and Belle said they were coming, I asked to ride along.” Rebel’s black hair slid over her shoulder and spilled over her large bosom. “We have to make up for lost time, cowboy.”

  Rebel had worked in the Wildcat Saloon in Cimarron and they’d shared good times and bad. But now his thoughts were on how Tally was going to take a brash woman like Rebel.

  One who’d staked her claim on him five years previous.

  He had to make it plain that things had changed. “I’m married, Rebel.” Clay’s statement was met with uncomfortable silence.

  Finally, Rebel forced a laugh. “You always were a kidder.”

  “Not joking. I tied the knot a few days ago. I can’t wait for you to meet her.” Clay just hoped Tally didn’t shoot her on the spot. He turned to Tobias January. “Drive on in. We’ll have breakfast soon. I’ll introduce you to my wife and the others, then you can pick out a spot to camp until we can get you a more permanent home.”

  Tobias cackled. “We weren’t expecting a hotel. Just a spot of ground where we can lay our heads.”

  “Before you throw in with us, you ought to know that an outlaw set fire to the buildings we’d already completed. We have to start from scratch. Also, the outlaws are still a threat. They’ve vowed to return.”

  “I’m a fair shot with a rifle,” Tobias replied. “I’ll help fight ’em.”

  Bullet bounded up to Clay and nudged his hand, begging for attention. He ran his hand over the soft fur. “One more gun might make all the difference. A friend will arrive with more lumber in a few days and we’ll be ready to build again.”

&
nbsp; “Good. That will give us time to settle in.” Tobias met Belle’s eyes as he patted her wrinkled hand. “We’re home, precious.”

  The old couple’s love shone like a beacon in the night. No telling the storms they’d weathered during their married life, but they were still going forward with optimism and courage.

  Clay noticed that Dallas Hawk had come to take his turn to guard. Clay spoke to him, then led the town’s first outside residents inside.

  Although Rebel might soon find her way back out once Tally got through with her.

  He groaned. This was going to be anything but a picnic.

  Thirteen

  By the time shimmering rose and purple hues broke through the gray dawn, Devil’s Crossing was beginning to stir and Tally almost had breakfast ready for Clay. He’d be hungry and tired after keeping watch all night. She’d already completed her chores and had fresh goat’s milk on the table. Violet sat outside the door, soaking up the dawn’s rays.

  The child had been scared, so Tally had finally relented and let her into bed with her, after which they’d both slept better.

  Still, the yearning for Clay’s arms had never left her, and she found herself listening for the sound of his breathing. Tally had never expected this emptiness. She shouldn’t miss something that was still so new. But tell that to her heart.

  She reached into the oven for a large pan of biscuits. On the way to the table with them, she saw movement through the window.

  Violet turned her head, listening. “Mr. Clay.”

  Tally moved to get a clear view, and anger rose inside her. Clay was heading toward the dugout carrying a long walking stick. Pressed close to his side in a red dress was a woman, her arm wrapped through his. She appeared about Tally’s age, as best she could tell. The woman’s midnight hair ruffled in the breeze as she laughed and glanced up at him. Clay threw back his head and roared, laughing fit to beat all. Tally scowled, her stomach tightening.

  Who was that woman, and why was she with her husband?

  Furthermore, why did he look so happy when she was totally miserable?