The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  The lump in Tally’s throat blocked the air. Even though she knew it was a real probability, she couldn’t face the thought of having to bury her friend.

  “Promise me.” Josie tried to grip Luke’s vest, but her hand dropped limply. “Promise.”

  “I will so long as you don’t give up fighting.” Luke kissed her forehead. “Princesa, I’ll never stop loving you.”

  Josie’s breath burst from her, she stiffened, and fear widened her eyes. “Oh!” With a little whimper, Josie went limp and lost consciousness.

  Dr. Mary pushed Luke aside and raised Josie’s eyelids to check the pupils. “She’s slipped into unconsciousness again. We’ve got to get this babe out. Luke, it’s best if you wait outside.”

  Luke released Josie’s hand and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Can I do anything, anything at all?”

  “You can pray.”

  White-faced, Luke grabbed Tally’s shoulders. “Let me know what’s happening or by God I’ll bust in here.”

  “I will.” Only, if things took a turn, how could she tell him he’d lost everything again?

  Houston emerged with Clay from the shadows and took his brother’s arm. “I think we can use a stiff drink.”

  Clay gave Tally a kiss. “If you need me, I’ll be here.” Then he followed the men into the endless night.

  The coming hours held the answers to everything. How often she’d huddled in a cold corner in the black inkiness of Creedmore, filled with uncertainty and dread. She already missed Clay’s touch, his strength, his quiet confidence.

  The doctor reached for her black bag and pulled out a strange-looking apparatus.

  Tobias January is a coffin maker. Tally didn’t know why the thought popped into her head. Her heart would break into a million pieces to hear the sound of his hammer.

  She swallowed a sob. Would the coming morn bring life?

  Or death?

  Twenty

  The first rays of daylight broke through heavy clouds that hung like a shroud over the tiny town, and Clay rubbed his weary eyes. The endless night had taken such a toll on everyone, huddled together in worry. Everything stood silent and still, every creature and blade of grass. Even the windmill blades seemed frozen in place.

  Waiting.

  Hoping.

  Willing the sound of an infant’s cry to fall on the hushed breeze. But all the world had stopped, time ceasing to exist.

  Luke glanced up with hollow eyes as Clay handed him a cup of coffee. Luke rose, took three strides toward the dwelling, then halted.

  “We should know something soon.” Clay poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat down to roll a cigarette. The bag of Bull Durham was almost empty, but smoking was the only thing that settled the jagged edges inside him. Strange that Luke didn’t smoke. Most outlaws did. Maybe he’d ask him about that one day.

  Houston strode from the corral where he’d been silently watching the horses. “Any news?”

  “Nope.” Clay’s thoughts turned to Tally and how the agony must be killing her. He yearned to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But would that be a lie?

  He dragged his attention back to Houston and followed his gaze to Luke’s bent form. If Luke lost Josie or his child, it would likely send him spiraling into a dark place from which escape might be impossible. Clay knew too much about dark, hopeless places like that.

  A sound alerted him. Clay swung to the door of the dugout to see Tally. He pushed to his feet, broken by the anguish on her face.

  She went directly to Luke. “You have a daughter, but she’s struggling to live. She desperately needed two more months in the womb, but if we can keep her warm and fed, she has a chance.”

  Luke blinked and swallowed hard. “I want to see her.”

  “Of course. We…” Her voice broke. “Josie is very bad.”

  A wounded cry sprang from Luke’s throat as he stumbled toward the dwelling.

  Clay broke away from his friends and went to Tally. Her heart hammered wildly. He’d sworn to protect her, but how could he protect her from this? She buried her face in his shoulder, trembling, trying not to give in to her fear. He suspected once she let the dam break, she might not be able to stop it.

  “I curse this land, Clay. It takes and takes and takes until our souls are bare. That babe didn’t ask for any of this. She’s innocent. Why does she have to pay?”

  The torment in her voice cut into him. “I wish I knew. It seems like we’ve had nothing except trouble, but this land gave me you, and for that I’m deeply indebted.” He tucked a flaming curl behind her ear, pressing a light kiss to her lips.

  For a moment, they held each other, drawing comfort and strength to face whatever the coming day brought.

  “Sometimes, if we’re lucky, there’s a crack in the darkness and light seeps in. You’re my light, Tally. My hope, my salvation, my future.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and stared up with shimmering eyes. “Strange, but that’s exactly how I feel about you.”

  His touch gentle, he ran his hand up and down the curve of her back and waist. No words were necessary. The pall of death covered the town, holding them in its grip, and the only way to cope was in each other’s arms, as one against overwhelming odds.

  Slowly, he became aware of the stirring town and the people drifting around them.

  With great reluctance, Clay released her. “You should eat something, darlin’. It’s going to be a long day, and maybe you can spend a few moments with Violet to let our daughter know you’re all right. She cried out for you in the night and I held her in my lap until she fell back asleep. She senses things and is very worried that you’ll disappear.”

  Tally ran a weary hand over her eyes. “I’ll have a talk with her and maybe take her to see the goats.”

  “Excellent idea. Speaking of those critters, I need to milk them.” Before Clay could move, Luke came from the dugout.

  “I have a daughter.” Luke gave Houston a half smile, as though fear held him back, and shoved his hand through his black hair. “A little girl and she’s beautiful, like her mother.”

  “We’ll have to think of a good name for her.” Houston gave him a rough, brotherly hug. “Pa needed another granddaughter.”

  The two brothers had a deep bond between them and Clay envied their closeness. He wished for his own brother, John Colby. To see him once more. But chances were high that he lay on some battlefield, his bones bleaching under the sun, forgotten, alone. Hopefully, someone had buried him. Clay prayed they had.

  Yeah, he’d like to tell John how much he loved and missed him.

  Violet emerged from the January’s tent with Tobias. Tally gave a cry and hurried toward them. The old man was a huge help with the girl—always so patient and loving. Violet called him “Grandpa,” and that’s exactly what he was to her.

  Clay walked beside Tally, finding a great need to keep his family close. He’d learned the hard way how fast it could all end.

  “I’ve got a need for some kisses, sweet girl.” Tally wrapped her arms around Violet and kissed her cheeks.

  The girl’s smile stretched as she snuggled into her mama’s softness. “I missed you, Mama. How’s Miss Josie?”

  “She’s real sick, sweetheart.”

  “Will you get sick too?”

  Clay picked Violet up. Bullet barked and danced around his legs, begging for attention too. “No, baby girl. Mama won’t get sick. Don’t fret about that. Okay?”

  “Did Miss Josie have her baby?”

  Tally ruffled the dog’s ears and tossed a stick. “Yes, and do you know what she had?”

  “A girl like me?”

  “You guessed it. A sweet little girl, and she’s a pretty thing, with lots of dark hair like her daddy.”

  A wistful look crossed the girl’s face. “I wish
I could see her.”

  Tally pulled back Violet’s light-golden hair, her heart aching. “I’d give anything if you could, sweetheart.” Tally cleared her throat and went on. “When she gets stronger, you can hold her and trace her face with your fingers.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “We can’t either, baby girl.” Clay set her on her feet. “Want to come and help me milk the goats?”

  “Okay, but I need to ask you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Will you please be my daddy?”

  Thick emotion rendered Clay unable to speak for a long moment. At last, he managed, “I can be whoever you want, baby girl.”

  She slipped her small palm inside Clay’s hand. “Okay, Daddy, let’s go.”

  Clay met Tally’s teary gaze and she smiled. He cleared his throat. “Yep. I can sure use you. Those ornery goats settle right down when you’re with them.” Clay turned to Tally. “Eat something to keep your strength up, darlin’.”

  He let his free hand slide down the curve of her tattooed cheek before giving his daughter his undivided attention.

  * * *

  Tally watched as they headed up to the noisy goat clan, and she laughed to see the frisky animals scamper around Violet. The girl’s squeal of delight was music to her ears. She was slowly figuring out her world and putting people in it who made it brighter. She’d given Clay such a huge gift just now. With a sigh, she turned, aware of a delicious aroma teasing her nose.

  Dressed in his usual black shirt and trousers, Jack Bowdre bent over the Dutch oven while Houston held out a plate. “Come eat, Tally.”

  She crossed the space with her long strides and accepted the food, touched by his caring. “This smells great, Houston.”

  He winked. “Jack and I know our way around a campfire.”

  The fragrance wafting from the eggs, peppers, and bacon made her mouth water. She put a forkful in her mouth and groaned. “This is so good.”

  A smile curved Jack’s mouth. “Glad you like it.”

  Houston’s gaze swept to the dugout and pain filled his brown eyes. “Cooking is the only way I know to help.”

  She didn’t know this Legend brother as well as she knew Luke and Sam, but she was just as much at ease around him. All the brothers were tall, but this one was big like his father, Stoker. Clay had told her about Houston and how close the two of them had become.

  “Hey, you can’t take all the credit.” Jack Bowdre hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. “I did my share with this meal.”

  Houston snorted. “Yeah, you added the salt and pepper and stirred the pot.” For a second, everything appeared normal and death was forgotten.

  Tally took another bite. “You’re both godsends, and that’s all I can say.”

  She turned away, but an argument between Jack, Ridge, Dallas, and Travis drew her back. It appeared to have something to do with drawing straws to see who would help Belle take care of Montana.

  “I’m not going to wash his nasty butt, and that’s all I’m saying about it,” Dallas said hotly.

  Ridge patted his Schofield hanging at his side. “I have a bullet that needs someplace to go. Wouldn’t much matter if it went into Montana, as mean and bad-tempered as he’s been.”

  “I agree.” Jack stared toward the doctor’s tent. “I’d let the bastard die if it wouldn’t make extra work for Belle January. That old woman’s a saint in my book, but she’s no spring chicken. We’ve got to lighten her load.”

  Dallas let out a long breath. “Oh, all right. I’ll fetch and carry whatever she needs this morning, then one of you can take the afternoon. But I draw the line at being sociable to Montana Black. He can kiss my rear—so long as he washes his face first.”

  Skeet Malloy doubled over laughing. When the blacksmith sobered, he said, “I’d pay to see that.”

  Footsteps crunched behind her. Tally turned to see Rebel approaching. Something had shaken the good-time girl. She carried a bundle of lamb’s wool, and her face was drawn. “Can we talk, Tally?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind doing it while I eat. I need to get back soon and help Dr. Mary. How about if we sit by the windmill? Its music soothes my soul, and I can use that right now.”

  They moved to the cool shade at the base of the wooden tower and sat on the edge of the tank. Tally closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the creak of the rod going up and down.

  “I heard about Josie’s babe coming so early.” Rebel brushed her fingers across the soft lamb’s wool in her arms. “I want her to have this. It might keep the infant alive.”

  “That’s real kind of you. The tiny girl might stand a chance if we can keep her warm and fed.” Tally set the plate beside her and reached for her former rival’s hand. She’d never seen Rebel so disturbed. “Thank you for this. Even though we keep a heated rock under the child at all times, this will be a tremendous help.”

  Rebel’s chin quivered, of all things, and she bit her lip. “I had a babe once.” Rebel’s voice came low, almost a whisper. A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another. “A little boy. He only lived a month, but I loved him with every bit of my heart.”

  “Oh, honey, I know you must’ve.” Tally put her arm around the trembling woman, their differences forgotten. “I’m really sorry you didn’t get to keep him. Each loss steals a piece of our souls, but to bury a child is the worst kind of pain imaginable.” She paused before quickly adding, “Or so I’m told.”

  “I never knew who the father was. I was real wild back then.”

  Tally couldn’t imagine Rebel being any wilder than she was now. “Life has a way of stomping us into the ground sometimes.”

  Rebel angrily swiped her tears away and collected herself. “It was probably for the best, you know? I couldn’t have given him a good life. But there’s something about holding a fragile being in your arms and knowing he’s a part of you. I hope Josie’s babe survives. Do you think…do you suppose I could help care for the child?”

  “I’m sure of it. We can use you.” Tally removed her arm from around the woman. “In fact, let’s go right now. The doctor needs that lamb’s wool, and you can take the next feeding shift.” Since the infant was so tiny, Dr. Mary had shown Tally how to use an eyedropper. They painstakingly gave her three droppers full of warm goat’s milk every hour around the clock.

  They headed to the campfire, where Tally gave Houston her plate and thanked him for the food. “Can you fix a plate for the doctor and bring it to the door?”

  “Sure, Tally. Anything to help.” He glanced at Rebel curiously but said nothing.

  The dugout was dim when Tally and Rebel entered. Luke, his gun belt low around his hips, was cradling his bundled daughter against his chest, humming to her. Tally was struck by the contrast between his size and how tenderly he held the babe—small enough that she could fit in one of his big hands.

  Dr. Mary bent over Josie. Tally moved to the end of the bed. “I’m sorry to be gone so long. How is she?”

  “Hemorrhaging bad. I’ve got to get the blood stopped or we’ll lose her.” Dr. Mary gave her a weary smile. “Can you make another thick poultice? I’ve got to get more healing herbs inside her and we have no time to waste. While you do that, I’m going to try something I observed in medical school.”

  “What’s that, Doctor?”

  “They pressed on the big arteries on each side of the abdomen. Sometimes that works in stopping blood flow. At least it did that once.”

  At least they had something else to try. Dr. Mary moved into position and began pressing. Tally took the jar of ground herbal powder down with trembling hands, mixed a good portion with yarrow leaves and water until she had a thick, brown goo. She dropped a large bit onto a clean cloth and handed it to Dr. Mary.

  “This has to work. It just has to.”

  If not, Josie’s would be the
first grave in the new town.

  “Goldenseal is the best there is to stop bleeding.” The doctor bent to place the poultice inside Josie. “And with the yarrow added and pressure on the arteries, it should work well.”

  While Dr. Mary applied pressure on the arteries, she asked for a thick cloth, then some water to bathe Josie’s face, then asked her to check on the baby. After Tally did all that, the doctor put her on the left side of Josie to press down hard on the other artery. She followed the doctor’s every movement, praying that their efforts would save Josie. She was vaguely aware that Rebel stood silent, watching.

  After what seemed like hours, Dr. Mary glanced up and Tally unclenched muscles she didn’t know she held rigid and breathed deeply. “Doctor, Rebel brought some thick lamb’s wool for the baby.”

  Rebel’s satin dress rustled as she stepped forward. “It’s the least I can do. I don’t need it.”

  “Bless you. It’s exactly what I was wishing for. Tally, lay that on the bed and swaddle the babe in it,” Dr. Mary ordered, still pressing hard on Josie’s abdomen.

  “Thank you for giving this up, Rebel.” Luke’s deep voice made his tiny daughter stir. Tally watched how the infant turned toward the sound of her father. Even so small, the baby girl seemed to know him.

  Perhaps the very young knew things on a deeper level than she thought.

  He brought the infant over, carefully eased her into the warm cushion of lamb’s wool, then tucked the soft fabric snug around the small body to hold in the heat. “There you go, sweetheart. Sleep and dream of being a princess, because that’s what you are.” When he glanced up, tears shimmered in his eyes.

  A lump tightened in Tally’s chest. She laid a hand on his arm. “Houston made breakfast. Go get yourself fed. And coffee. You look like you can use some.”

  With a nod, he crossed to the bed and pressed his lips to Josie’s colorless ones. He stood for a long moment, gazing at his wife and daughter as though afraid of seeing them perhaps for the last time, then turned and went out the door.

  Dr. Mary’s quiet voice filled the room. “Tally, can you check the packing to see if the blood flow is slowing?”