The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  But what about his promise to let her go come spring if she wanted to ride out?

  The thought of the gaping hole she’d leave sent stabs of pain into his chest.

  Her flushed face and shining eyes made her even more beautiful. She met his gaze, her fiery curls cascading over her shoulders and down to rest on the soft swell of her breasts. Her glorious smile blinded him, and she caught her bottom lip between her white teeth. “What if I want to do…other things?”

  Here it comes. Clay steeled himself. Maybe what he offered wasn’t enough. Maybe he wasn’t enough for someone like her.

  “Clay, you look so serious. Are you rusty at teasing banter?” Her soft words and coy glance released a thundering herd of wild horses inside him.

  Clay brought her hand to his mouth and nipped at her fingers. “No. What other things do you suggest we do, darlin’?”

  The tip of Tally’s tongue left a wet trail down the column of his throat. “Like kissing and hugging and…making love.”

  This teasing, carefree side of his wife was one that he prayed never left. “Just wait until I get you alone.” His heart thudded against his ribs as he murmured in her ear, “My warrior angel.”

  Thirty-six

  The predawn hours found Clay astride his horse atop the bluff overlooking the town. The place was just beginning to stir after the late-night homecoming celebration. He still carried the scent of Tally on him, and he smiled as he let the memory of their lovemaking wash over him. Each time with her was good, but last night’s lovemaking had been deeper than ever.

  Sundown danced, anxious to gallop, but Clay held the paint firmly in check. “Not yet, boy. Give me a minute.”

  A frown formed on his face as he gazed across the land. The town couldn’t survive without food. That had been apparent from the start, but he’d pushed it aside to address later when they actually got Devil’s Crossing on the upswing.

  But now their numbers had almost doubled, and he had to think about growing crops. Except where?

  Clay turned and rode to the long, narrow valley that butted up against his and Tally’s new house. This section of ground held the most fertile soil. Everything higher up was too rocky.

  Dismounting, he picked up a fistful of rich earth and let it fall through his fingers. This would grow everything they needed, but they had to get moving quickly for the crops to flourish. Once they plowed the land, the women could plant in nothing flat, and late-summer rains would soon have autumn crops reaching for the sky.

  Memories of growing up on a farm, watching plants and animals grow, crossed his mind. He’d loved those special times—the fresh milk, helping his father pitch hay to the horses, walking barefoot across a meadow after a slow summer rain. The back of his eyes burned.

  He blinked hard and turned at the sound of hoofbeats. Jack and Ridge pulled to a halt and swung from their saddles.

  “I thought we might find you here.” Ridge stooped for a handful of dirt. “We’ve had the same thought. We have to start becoming self-sufficient or the town will die out.”

  Jack agreed. “This section is the only good land nearby that will grow anything.”

  “A question for you both first.” Clay studied his old friends. “I need to know if you’re in this for the long haul.”

  Ridge wasted not a second. “You can count on me.”

  “Jack?” Clay asked. “You’ve had a setback in your plans. Will you pack up and leave?”

  The former lawman’s eyes met his, and while they still bore bitter disappointment, they reflected a bit of hope. “I’m staying. Maybe things will change for me one day, but even so, this is my home. You need too much help here for me to leave now.”

  “Tobias and Belle brought a lot of seeds with them,” Ridge said. “I’ll see what they have in addition to what I bought when I went into Springer for Dr. Mary’s medicines.”

  “Good. Then I think we need to set about plowing today and get something in the ground soon.” Clay reached for Sundown’s reins. “Let’s go fill our bellies. I’m hungry.”

  Maybe they could have community farms, where everyone worked with no one person lording over the others. He wouldn’t stand for greed. If that took root, it would destroy everything he’d built.

  His dreams had been crushed for too long.

  * * *

  Following breakfast, Tally and Clay sat in their old dugout across from Phineas Hargrove, while Belle and Susan Worth rode herd on Violet.

  Tally gripped Clay’s hand, studying the lawyer. Would he be the man to get justice for her? His kind brown eyes behind his round spectacles seemed to reflect a gentle heart. The black bowler he wore had a small, jaunty feather stuck in the band on one side. Phineas Hargrove had long, elegant fingers and appeared young—somewhere near Clay’s age.

  Phineas opened his case and removed paper and pencil. “First, give me the facts that you have concerning your stepmother, Lucinda.”

  “This will be hard to believe, but it’s the truth, sir.” Tally told him about Lucinda’s instant dislike of her and her brother upon her marriage to their father. “She used to terrorize my brother and myself. Dumping pepper and spices into our food to make it impossible to eat and ripping up our clothes and leaving them in strips in our room.

  “We tried to tell Father, but he was smitten with her. She had him wrapped around her finger until he couldn’t see the truth that was in front of him. He died six months after they married, under suspicious circumstances, and I know in my heart she killed him.”

  Phineas glanced up from his notes. “Tell me how he died.”

  “He became violently ill—couldn’t hold anything down, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t speak. A paralysis set in and I knew he wouldn’t recover. We called the doctor, but he couldn’t save him.” Tally paused, remembering the horror and Lucinda’s cleaning frenzy following the funeral.

  Clay reached for her hand and she welcomed his comfort. “Take your time, darlin’.”

  “A few days after the burial, I found a hurried letter to me and Brady in my father’s handwriting, warning us to watch out. Father said there was evil and danger afoot on the ranch. He said that if anything happened to him, we should go to the sheriff.” Tally took a deep breath. “The sheriff left town very suddenly before Brady and I got to.”

  “Regardless of what your father’s will said, by Texas law, Lucinda would get half plus one third and the right to live on the ranch until her death. You and Brady each were entitled to a third.” The man of law took off his spectacles and chewed on the earpieces.

  Tally nodded. “Only that wasn’t enough for dear, greedy stepmother. She wanted it all.”

  “To do that, she had to get rid of you and your brother.” Phineas put his spectacles back on and feverishly wrote something else.

  “And that’s what she did. Brady’s death came a short time after my father’s. She made it appear like an accidental horse trampling, but I know it wasn’t. About that time, a stranger arrived, and he and Lucinda spent many hours locked in my father’s office.”

  Phineas got excited. “Do you have a name for this stranger? He could provide the proof we need.”

  “I’ll never forget it. The man was slimy and dirty. Always staring. Jude Dominick.”

  Clay jerked in surprise. “I know him. Had dealings with him about two years ago.”

  “Do you know where we might find him?” Phineas Hargrove asked.

  “If he’s not dead, he’ll be at the Crystal Palace in Waco most nights. He’s the owner. Better take a loaded gun when you talk to him. No…make that two.” By the way Clay’s face hardened, Tally knew whatever had happened between him and Dominick had been bad.

  For several long moments, the only sound was Phineas Hargrove’s pencil against paper. “Thanks. You’ve been very helpful. Continue, Mrs. Colby.”

  “After Brady was out of th
e picture, Lucinda turned her attention to me. She cornered me, snarling that she could make me disappear unless I toed the line. That night I tried to escape but Dominick caught me.” Tally rubbed her eyes to erase the images of all that had followed. “She saved the worst for me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The living hell of the Creedmore Lunatic Asylum.”

  Tally told him about the days and nights of horror, about death pressing close, about her escape, and ended with Clay burning the place.

  A moment’s silence followed. Clay rubbed her back, and Phineas’s furious scribbling filled the dugout. Finally, he glanced up. “Thank you, Mrs. Colby. You’ve given me more than enough to get my investigator on this.”

  “An investigator?” Tally scowled. “I thought you did that yourself.”

  “No, ma’am.” Phineas removed his spectacles. “I have no talent for that. My expertise lies in the courtroom, and when I finish with Lucinda Shannon, you’ll get your father’s estate—the land, money, and everything else he owned. If things go right, this will lock the woman up for a very long time.”

  “Mr. Hargrove, we should discuss your fee.” Tally worried that the cost would be too rich for their blood. “Clay and I are just starting our life together and don’t have much.”

  The lawyer patted her hand. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  “No, sir,” Clay objected. “We’ll know now. I want no surprises.”

  “Fine. Give me ten dollars to start and fifty when it’s done. Agreed?”

  Clay stuck out his hand. “Agreed. How soon can you start?”

  “Immediately.” The lawyer shook their hands and started to rise.

  “Wait. Before you leave, I have another matter to discuss.” Clay went to the door and got Jack. “Will you help us get amnesty?”

  Phineas smiled. “I’d wondered when you would ask. Of course. I’ll write the governor, pleading your case. Sit down and list your crimes and include—in your own words—why you’re confessing and asking for amnesty.”

  An hour later, Clay handed over the money for both Tally’s and his cases. Jack’s shoulders lifted when he paid for his own.

  Tally shook Mr. Hargrove’s hand. “Thank you for handling these. You don’t know how much I…how much we appreciate the help.”

  Phineas placed his spectacles inside his vest pocket. “Your cases intrigue me. I’m especially looking forward to getting justice for you, Mrs. Colby. That woman should be hanged for what she did. And she might end up that way, by the time it’s all said and done.” He turned and left the dugout.

  Justice. She was finally getting justice. Tally inhaled a cleansing breath. One day, she’d look back and remember this as the instant hope bloomed fully in her heart.

  Clay threaded his fingers through hers. “I’m very proud of you. It takes courage to confront evil and slay dragons. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  “I have to sit down with these women and find out their ambitions, see how many are leaving. Will you help arrange transportation for them to get where they want to go?”

  “Of course.” He moved her hair aside and kissed her neck.

  “Stop this. I have to get started. I’ll see you in a little while, cowboy.”

  * * *

  While Ridge took a group of men to plow, Clay worked inside his and Tally’s new house. He wanted to get the interior finished and have their little family moved in before dark. Jack led a group to help, and it went fast.

  Each time Clay went for water or food, he saw Tally huddled with the new arrivals. More than just food and shelter, she was giving them fresh hope and bandages for the scars deep in their hearts. His chest burst with pride. He couldn’t have chosen a fiercer fighter for a wife.

  Violet found him. “What’cha doin’, Daddy?”

  “Working.” Clay wiped the sweat from his face with an arm. “I’m getting our new house ready to move into.”

  “Will Jenny and Ely live with us?”

  “I don’t know. Would you like if they did?”

  Violet nodded. “They could be my brother and sister.” The child’s face darkened. “I used to have some sisters, but they didn’t like me. My brother used to be very mean to me. He tripped me all the time and laughed.” Violet never talked much about her other life. That she was doing so now, well, it probably meant she was worried that maybe this would turn out like before.

  Clay sat down and pulled her onto his lap. She snuggled against him. “Don’t you worry about Jenny and Ely. They’re not like those people from your past. I’ll make sure.”

  “I know.” Violet pulled out a small cloth bag from her pocket. “Wanna see what Mr. Montana gave me? He said it’s a secret but I know you won’t tell.”

  Clay opened the sack and removed two yellow rocks, turned them in the light, and stilled. What the hell? “Violet, did Montana say what these were?”

  “Yep. Rocks. He said I could sell ’em.”

  Clay held them up to examine. How did that kind of gold wind up in Montana’s possession? “Did he say where he got them?”

  “Nope. Will you tell?”

  “No, baby girl. This is our secret.” He returned them to the bag and stuck it back in her pocket. “Put them in a safe place, and one day I’ll take you to sell them.”

  Violet stayed close on his shirttail, and he welcomed her company. She talked a lot about Montana and he learned much more about the man now than he ever had when Montana was alive. It was odd how he kept revealing more and more about himself through a little blind girl.

  Midafternoon, a wagon arrived full of large crates. Clay hurried to meet the shipment of furniture that, unbeknownst to Tally, he’d ordered a month ago. Though she glanced up with curiosity, she didn’t come over to see what the fuss was about and kept on making a log of each rescued woman’s name and her plans.

  He swore the men to secrecy and asked their help in setting everything in the house. Waiting until nightfall would be difficult, but he wanted to have the beds made, curtains up, furniture in place, and flowers in the vases. This was what he’d wished for the day Tally arrived to marry him sight unseen, just a mail order bride. So much had happened since then—good things and bad.

  By the time he’d finished and had everything perfect, the sun had started its trek toward twilight. Clay gave his and Tally’s bedroom a final glance before closing the door. Anticipation hummed beneath his skin.

  The fact it was a Monday caused no alarm. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all.

  * * *

  Tally closed her log book and stretched, satisfied with the day’s work. So far, fifteen of the women wanted to move on and get as far from Texas as they could. Savannah Lyle had broken off her original plans to marry Ridge and was going to live with relatives back East. Others like her had definite destinations in mind, where they knew they could work and support themselves.

  Darcy Howard had chosen to live in a convent instead of marrying Jack. Darcy simply needed a chance for contemplation, faith, and peace, and Tally could certainly understand that. Of the women, Darcy could have been the most scarred. Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Tally all of her story.

  Tally gazed at the outdoor fire where Belle and Susan were cooking, putting Jack and another of the men to work helping. Some fresh onions and tomatoes would be wonderful with the meal. She hurried to the garden to pick them. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rebel striding up the slight incline, her face set in determined lines.

  She waited until the woman drew close. “Hi, Rebel. Something bothering you?”

  “What are your intentions for Jenny and Ely Carver?”

  “Clay and I haven’t really discussed the matter. Why?”

  “If it’s all right…” Rebel bit her lip and started over. “If it’s all the same, I want them.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Tally laid her hand
on Rebel’s arm and spoke softly. “This can help fill the hole left when your son died.”

  “I want to be a mother again. And who knows? Maybe a wife. Travis and I get along well. Maybe he’ll ask me to marry him one of these days.”

  “I’m very happy for you.” A horse’s angry snort reached Tally’s ears. Where was it coming from? A slight ripple in the breeze whispered that trouble was coming. The hair on her arms rose as though lightning had hit close. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t pinpoint the source.

  A strange foreboding filled the air, and even though she stood with her friends a stone’s throw away in the bustling town, that feeling in her gut wouldn’t subside. She scanned each new building, the windmill, the row of tents they’d stretched for the new arrivals. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was a normal summer day. Everyone was happy. All their troubles were behind them.

  Animals smelled trouble, and her time at Creedmore had broken her down to where she was little more than an animal, surviving on instinct alone. Maybe her senses were so sharpened by going back there that she could taste danger where it wasn’t. She had to hurry back to her friends at the fire.

  Rebel screamed, “Watch out, Tally!”

  A sudden, deep growl made her skin crawl with fear. Then a hand closed around her arms from behind, holding her immobile.

  Her blood turned to ice and she steeled herself, already looking for a way to freedom.

  A gravelly voice spoke at her ear. “Did you think you were safe?”

  Chills raced up her spine. “Run, Rebel! Get to safety.”

  The children. Violet, where was she? She’d be unable to see the danger. Tally prayed Violet would somehow sense her panic and hide. She had to see his face. She twisted against the iron grip far enough to see the shiny gold tooth and went stone cold.

  Slade Tarver.

  Thirty-seven

  Tally shook her head to clear it. Tarver was dead. Wasn’t he? He’d burned up in the fire. She’d seen him standing in the window with flames all around him. Large blisters on his face oozed puss. He should’ve died. How could he come into their town with no one paying him any mind?