The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  He gazed into her eyes. “Tally, I spoke to Luke and Houston about getting you a lawyer. We’re going to take your stepmother to court and get back everything she stole from you. That is, if that’s what you want to do.”

  “I’d like nothing better, but don’t lawyers and court cost a lot of money?”

  “I’ll borrow, beg, or steal, but I’ll get it.” He nuzzled behind her ear. “Justice is worth any price, Mrs. Colby. I’m going to help you get it.”

  “I ask for nothing more. Thank you, Clay.” She picked up his large hand and threaded her fingers through his. “Let’s go to bed. I want to lie next to you and know I’m safe and loved.”

  * * *

  The sun sank below the horizon, and darkness was closing fast by the time they reached Deliverance Canyon. Clay gave the secret owl hoot that Tally told him to give to let the women know friends were coming. He’d passed close a number of times over the years, never knowing a canyon lay hidden below. But then, with the thick brush and overgrowth hiding the opening, a person had to know exactly where to find it. Very ingenious. Tally had chosen a good hiding place.

  This wife of his was always full of surprises. He was relieved to have cleared up the friction between them. He didn’t want to fight. Loving was more fun.

  Tally seemed nervous. She spoke low. “I think we should leave Montana up here to guard in case we were followed. I won’t bring these women harm.”

  Clay covered her hand with his and gave it a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry.” He turned to Montana. “You’ll have to stay up top and guard. Think you can do that?”

  “No one’ll get past me. My word on that.” Montana dismounted, scanning the area before untying his bedroll behind his saddle. “I’ll camp right here. Are you taking the pack mule?”

  “Nope. I’ll leave it so you can cook some supper.” Clay swung to Tally. “Ready?”

  She gave him a blinding smile. “With you—always.”

  The steep descent was slow going, with drop-offs on both sides of the trail. Finally, they reached the bottom and women surrounded Tally’s mare.

  An older woman ratcheted a bullet into the chamber of her rifle and pointed it at Clay. “I don’t know you, mister.”

  The hardness in her eyes gave Clay pause. He pointed to Tally. “I’m with her.”

  Tally laughed and dismounted. “Hester Mason, meet my husband, Clay Colby. He’s harmless—for the most part.”

  “Had to make sure.” Hester let the hammer down easy.

  The woman appeared older than Clay by about twenty years. Her blond hair had faded, but there was a sharpness to Hester that belied her age. No doubt the woman was a good shot and had seen occasion to hone her skill. She looked like she’d happily kill anyone who messed with them and not feel one speck of guilt.

  “How’s your leg, Hester?” Tally asked.

  “I’m hobbling around. It’s getting better with every sunrise.”

  Clay watched the group of women around Tally. They obviously adored her. “And the bullet wound?”

  “Healing. I’m a tough old bird.”

  “Yes, you are.” Clay dismounted, taking in the pitiful dwellings made from scrap lumber and other things that perched among the boulders. This was no way for anyone to live. He was glad Tally was out—and soon maybe the rest would be too.

  He put his arm around her trim waist and they strolled to the fire. A shy woman handed them two filled plates.

  All the women wore the same Creedmore mark that Tally used to have. They ranged in age from around forty down to young women like Alice, who hadn’t yet seen their eighteenth birthday. The sight fed his boiling anger. He couldn’t wait to bring justice for these escapees, women who’d been thrown away by families they trusted.

  The thin remaining light caught on three crosses, marking graves where they’d evidently buried the ones who would never make it out this canyon and find a better life. He had trouble swallowing.

  “I have news for everyone.” Tally set her plate down. “A doctor where I now live has the means to remove the tattoos. Come closer and look.”

  The women crowded around, oohing and aahing, gently touching the still-red patch of skin where the mark had been.

  Tally’s gaze moved over each one. “She can do the same for you.”

  “Did it hurt much?” one of the women asked.

  “I won’t lie. It did, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” She raised her chin defiantly. “I belong to no one, not even Clay. No one will own me.”

  He nodded and met each measured glance. “That’s right. You shouldn’t let anyone own you either. You can claim yourselves back as well. We’re going to Creedmore tomorrow and God only knows how this will go. But no matter what happens, Tally is already entirely free of them.”

  “I want to be free too.” The speaker pulled a tattered shawl close around her. “Those bastards took a lot more than my pride, and I want it back.”

  “Me too.”

  “I don’t care how much pain is involved. I want to look in the mirror again and not see their ugly mark.”

  “Amen to that!”

  “What if I don’t want to?” The woman who spoke next had burn marks up and down her arms. “I’ve seen more pain than I ever thought possible. I can’t bear to think about facing more. I just can’t.”

  “No one will ever force you to do anything you don’t want, Ruth.” Tally rose and went around the fire. Crying, she folded her arms around her friend and held her.

  The love she had for these women brought a lump to Clay’s throat. No matter where they’d all come from, they were family now. Their real ones had discarded them to be used and abused in ways that were inconceivable, and in the midst of horror, they’d formed a lasting bond.

  He cleared his throat. “I’d like for you all to come live at Devil’s Crossing. We’ll take care of you and give you homes. No one will ever hurt you again. You have my word on that.”

  Hester Mason shifted the rifle she kept at her side. “If you make things safe for us, we’ll consider it. If you can’t, then we’ll stay put. This canyon is pretty secure.”

  “That’s fair. We’ll talk about this further after I’m done at Creedmore.”

  A pretty, brown-haired woman scooted next to him. “I’m Darcy Howard. Do you know Jack Bowdre?”

  “He’s a good friend.”

  She nodded. “I met him when he came to treat Hester’s leg. What kind of man is he really?”

  “Honorable as the day is long and fearless to a fault. Jack will ride into hell with nothing except a burning need to put down evil. I’ve never known a better man.” Clay chuckled. “Jack’s also the most stubborn cuss I’ve ever seen. If he thinks he’s right, he’ll argue with a fence post until he’s blue in the face.”

  “He sounds nice, but I’m not sure I want to marry him. Or anyone for that matter. I’ve been thinking about entering a nunnery.” She paused, staring into the flames. “I have to find meaning to my life, you know.”

  Clay patted her hand. “I can understand that. After a tragedy, a person needs to do some soul-searching. Do whatever is right for you. Jack will understand.”

  “He seems real nice though.” Darcy leaned forward to toss a twig into the fire. “I wouldn’t want to hurt him.”

  “Don’t worry about Jack. You figure out what you want to do with your life.”

  Jack would take the blow hard. The former lawman had pinned a lot of hopes on marrying Darcy. Without his dream of a home and family to keep him going, who knew what Jack would do? He might give up and return to a life of crime. None of that was Darcy’s to deal with, mind.

  Hope seemed a slender thread that was too easily broken.

  Tally returned to her place next to him, snuggling against his side. He brushed a kiss on the top of her head and listened to the crackle and pop of the fire
.

  Ruth stared into the flames, her voice wistful. “I dream sometimes of walking down any street in any town and not having to worry.” Her gaze swung to Clay. “I used to be scared of the shadows. Now I’m afraid of the monsters that hide in the dark and love to make me scream.”

  “We all are, Ruth.” Tally squeezed Clay’s arm. “I refuse to give in to that fear. Life can be so full of joy again if you let it.”

  “How’s Violet?” Hester asked. “I hope she’s doing okay.”

  Clay chuckled. “That girl has her own personal army of bodyguards surrounding her.”

  “She’s learned to get about without help, using a long stick and walking trails that Clay and the men made for her.” Tally rested her back against his chest. “She loves her new independence—and the fact that when she sneezes, every man in earshot runs with a handkerchief. I fear she’s spoiled beyond hope.”

  Clay changed the subject and told them about Luke and Josie. “It sure didn’t look good for her and the babe for a while, but they’re both doing well now.”

  Hester clicked her tongue. “That poor woman. I’m glad everything turned out all right. Good luck to you both in this undertaking. Our thoughts go with you, and we’ll pray for success in burning Creedmore down.”

  They talked a little more, then turned in for the night. Clay spread their bedrolls by the fire and pulled Tally down next to him. “I’m so glad you took a chance and came to marry me. This place, those lonely graves, break my heart.”

  “Mine, too.”

  Tally wiggled until she got comfortable and dozed off. Clay stared up at the starry sky and planned for his arrival at Creedmore.

  He curled his hands into tight fists. Tally, Violet, these women, and Susan Worth had lost huge parts of their lives. He would make sure that they wouldn’t lose anything else.

  This time he would not fail. He would not lead those women in Creedmore to their death. He whispered that over and over until it was branded in his brain.

  * * *

  The women gave them quite a send-off, echoes of “good luck” ringing out as they left the canyon early the next morning with Montana. Clay set a brisk pace at the start, energized by his desire to reach Stephenville and the asylum, but as the day wore on, they slowed considerably. He wouldn’t put the horses in danger or have them exhausted when they really needed them.

  On the second day after leaving Deliverance, they made camp, cooked some game he’d killed, and ate. Afterward, he stood silently by a low fire, lost in his own black thoughts. Montana lay down on his bedroll, placed his hat over his face, and was soon snoring.

  Tally finished the dishes and slid her arms around Clay. “Those are some mighty serious thoughts.”

  Guilt rose and he sighed. “I’m not fit company.”

  “I ask for no apology.” She kissed his back, running her hands across the width.

  “No, but you deserve one.” He glanced up at the early stars popping out in the evening sky. “I have this darkness in my head that sometimes takes over, no matter how hard I work and work to box it up and nail on the lid. This damnable blackness slithers out like a slimy salamander.”

  “Don’t see it as some big fault.” Tally moved around to face him. “It’s what keeps you alive.”

  Leave it to her to see the positives of a flaw.

  “Some might argue the point.” He let his fingers drift across her face. When he encountered the rough skin where the tattoo had been, he sucked in a breath. That patch of skin represented what lay at stake.

  “I know what that darkness is like because I have it in me, too,” she said quietly.

  Clay lifted a fiery strand of hair and worked the silk between his fingers. “You and me, we’re like two wild horses that no man can ride. No matter how patient and gentle a person is, they simply won’t let you ride them. They’re too damn stubborn, with a wildness you can’t ever get out. Maybe people like us can never make a marriage work.” He closed his eyes and swore on his mother’s grave that he’d somehow protect Tally, even if it put him six feet under. She would return to Violet.

  The eerie silence of the land was loud in his ears. The enemy waited.

  Tally trembled. “Hold me, Clay. The night is too dark.”

  “I have no idea how this mission here is going to go, but I swear that I’m going to stick my feet in the stirrups and hold on. This old wild horse is going to gallop to the bitter end.” Clay pulled her closer and felt the beating of her heart. “If I get thrown off and stomped into the ground in the attempt, you can bury me.”

  “No! I haven’t come this far to let Tarver kill you.” Tally gripped his shirt, her eyes blazing. “We’re going to win. We’re going to return to Violet. We’re going to get our happy life. Both of us. You got that?”

  “Always.” He covered her mouth with a savage intensity. His hunger for her was like a raging river roaring out of its banks, going wherever it wanted, often too difficult to contain.

  And there were times like now when he had no desire to tamp it down.

  They couldn’t make love with Montana right there, but he could damn sure hold this woman who’d stormed into his life, hands on her hips, and filled every hollow place in his heart.

  She wrapped her arms around him and held him flush against her. He trembled with need that refused to be quieted. For this woman, he’d do anything, be anything, go anywhere. All she had to do was ask.

  But fear rode in his saddle. He’d never been so close to happiness before…

  He released her and strode off to check the horses one more time, trying to escape the thick blackness crawling inside him like a thousand worms, twisting and turning, burrowing deeper into his soul.

  Twenty-nine

  Although the morning was warm and inched toward the hot side, Tally couldn’t get rid of the ice that coated her heart. The weary days of travel had brought them within a day’s ride of their destination. She washed up the few tin dishes they’d used and returned them to a burlap sack on the pack mule.

  Clay covered her hand. “I didn’t get my kiss.”

  “That’s because you were already up. Did you even come to bed?”

  “No time for sleep. I had to think, to plan.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.

  Tally slid her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers in his hair. She could stay locked in his embrace forever. This man had so much honor and strength, always taking care of others. When would he see to his needs? When would it be time for him?

  She murmured against his mouth, absorbing his jumpiness. “What is it, Clay?”

  “I’ve never had so much to lose before.” He took a step back, jerked his hat off, and ran his fingers through his hair. “In the past, the outcome of a fight affected only me. Now, it’s you and Violet. If I fail.…”

  “You won’t. We’ve been cheated out of enough and it’s time for things to change.” Bootheels struck the ground, telling her Montana was back from scouting the brush. She laid a palm on Clay’s vest and spoke softly. “You don’t have to do this. We can turn around right now. No one would fault you, least of all me.”

  He looked at her like she’d suggested he whack off his arm. His dark brown eyes snapped. “Like you, when I start something, I finish it.” Then he turned to tie the bedrolls behind their saddles, giving the ropes vicious yanks.

  She’d never meant to make him angry. But she suspected it wasn’t her he was furious with—it was whole the situation. He probably yearned to be back in his town with his brothers-in-arms.

  “What’s got his goat?” Montana asked.

  “Nerves, I guess.”

  Montana shook his head. “We all got ’em. Wouldn’t be normal if we didn’t.”

  With another glance at Clay, she finished breaking down the camp, then silently climbed onto her mare.

  They rode for most of the day with l
ittle conversation, but Clay’s gentle touches and quiet words told her he’d settled down. On the other hand, the closer they got to Creedmore, the colder she became inside. She must’ve been crazy for deciding to tag along.

  Tarver, Finch, and the others were ahead. If they got her again…they’d kill her in whatever painful way their twisted minds could dream up.

  A shiver raced through her. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped the reins.

  Montana moved closer and laid his palm over hers. “I got you, pretty lady. Ain’t nothing gonna happen.”

  “Thanks.” She noticed a gentleness in his eyes she’d never seen before. Although it seemed inconceivable that Montana Black was ever anything except a hard outlaw, maybe he’d once lived a life of substance. “Tell me your story, Montana. What led you to this hard life?”

  The man rubbed his gray, grizzled chin. “You probably don’t believe this, but I had a wife once. Oh Lord, she was a looker! Hair as soft as silk and smelled of honeysuckle.” His eyes softened. “I thought we’d live out the rest of our lives together—just me an’ her. We didn’t have much, but we were happy.”

  “What happened?”

  “While I was out huntin’ game, some real bad hombres came along. She must’ve fought ’em. They tied her to a tree, doused her with kerosene, and set fire to her.” He put his hand to his eyes, possibly in an attempt to wipe away the memories crowding close.

  “I’m real sorry.” Tally laid her hand on his arm. Violet had seen the good inside Montana—maybe because she was blind and hadn’t judged by his looks.

  “For a whole year I couldn’t breathe. It was like someone had a fist around my throat.” He gazed up the trail. “I went after ’em. Didn’t take much to find the bastards. Took a mighty long time for ’em to die though.” A strange smile formed on his lips. “Yes, it did. I never tried to go back to the good life after that. My soul was past saving.”

  He was silent a minute, watching Clay up ahead. “Until that little girl of your’n.”