Brides of the West (20 page)

“Not quite. There’s more business we must
settle.”

Evangeline eyed him curiously. What else
could there be? She sucked in a breath, waited for him to
answer.

“Evangeline…” He reached for her hand and
cupped it gently in his. “We’ve been married two weeks. Last night
I nearly died. Do you know that I haven’t said ‘I love you’
yet?”

Her breath caught. No, she hadn’t realized
until now, but it dawned on her that she’d not said the words
either. His words hit her hard
. Last night I almost
died.

“I love you.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ve
always loved you, even when we were apart all those years. I hope
you know how much.”

Laughter bubbled up as tears threatened. Yes,
she knew. Deep in her heart and soul she’d always known. She leaned
over and brushed a soft kiss to his lips. He moaned deep in his
throat and his hand lifted, his fingers twining through her hair.
Pins fell upon the blanket and he shook her hair free, drew it over
one shoulder.

“Let me say it again.” A smile tilted the
corners of his mouth. “I love you, Evangeline MacKinnon, forever
and always.”

She choked back a sob. “And I love you, too,
Gray Wolf MacKinnon. Forever and always.”

Shiloh Springs, Texas

1872

Sheriff Josh Morrow heard his office door
burst open, then slam shut, rattling the windows.

“She’s here!” Deputy Roger Miller rushed down
the hall toward the cells. “The mail order bride’s here.”

The sheriff stepped out of a small back room.
“I heard you the first time.”
Hell, half the county probably
heard him.

“Ya tole me to come git ya.” Roger dogged his
steps. “What ya goin’ do, Sheriff?”

“Go meet her.” Josh picked up his hat and
exited the office. A moment later he heard the door slam and Roger
fell into step beside him. “Run over to Reverend Huddleston and
tell him and the missus to come to my office right away.”

A tiny woman dressed in a blue traveling suit
sat on a bench outside the depot. A ridiculous hat with a veil and
green feather sat atop blonde curls. What had Barry Woods been
thinking? She couldn’t have been more than twenty, and how old was
Woods? He had to have been at least forty.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” He removed his hat. “I’m
Sheriff Josh Morrow, are you Miss Yeager?”

“Yes, I am.” She looked up at him.

Damn, she was so young, so petite...and so
pretty. This wasn’t going to be easy. He wished the stage was still
there so he could put her back on it. It wasn’t, and he
couldn’t.

“I’m afraid Mr. Woods is unavailable.” He
fudged. “Why don’t you come to my office?” She didn’t move. “You
can wait inside, out of the sun.”

“Will Mr. Woods know where to find me?” The
veil hid her eyes, but not the uncertainty in her voice.

“Yes, ma’am.” If he were in condition to find
her. Which he wasn’t.

“What about my bag?” She chewed a finger,
despite her gloves.

“Roger’ll watch your bag.”

“All right.” She stood and slid a small hand
through the crook of his elbow.

She barely came to his shoulder. If Barry
Woods wasn’t dead already, Josh would’ve seriously considered
killing him for bringing a sweet, innocent thing like her to an
untamed frontier town like Shiloh Springs. He led her into his
office and offered her a chair.

“Would you like some coffee or maybe some
water, ma’am?”

“Water,” she answered with a soft southern
accent.

He picked up a coffee-stained cup and wiped
it with his sleeve before filling it from a pitcher. He handed it
to her.

“Thank you.”

The front door opened and Reverend Huddleston
and his wife entered. “Sheriff,” Huddleston greeted him as his wife
scrutinized Miss Yeager. The minister’s wife found fault with any
woman she met, especially if the woman was younger or prettier than
she, which meant any woman under the age of forty or better looking
than a horse. She clearly regarded herself the epitome of proper
etiquette and Christian behavior and didn’t mind expressing her
opinion whenever she felt the need.

“Reverend, Mrs. Huddleston. This is Miss
Yeager. She’s a friend of Mr. Woods.”

The young woman stood, extending her hand
first to the minister.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Yeager,” the minister
said, barely touching her hand.

“Same here, sir,” she replied.

Mrs. Huddleston stuck out her hand,
reluctantly Josh thought, and then hastily retracted it after only
slightly grazing the younger woman’s hand. Damn, he hated this part
of the job. But he was the sheriff and frequently it was his duty
to do unpleasant things.

“Miss Yeager.” He moved to face her. “There’s
no easy way to tell you this, but...” Her face paled. “Mr. Woods
died unexpectedly three days ago.” The cup clattered to the floor.
“We buried him yesterday. No one was certain when you’d get
here.”

She started to crumple. He caught her,
holding her limp body against his. The ensuing stirring of his body
was unexpected. “Damn Barry Woods,” he mumbled.

“Now, now, Sheriff. You shouldn’t speak ill
of the dead,” Mrs. Huddleston tsked.

It galled him she never had a good thing to
say about Woods when he was alive, or anyone else for that matter,
but now that he was dead... A lot of good it did to have them
present to help break the news. His horse would’ve been more help,
if not more comfort. Ignoring them, he carried her to an empty cell
and laid her on the bunk. Grabbing a towel, he wet it.

The front door opened and closed as the
Huddlestons left. Good riddance, he thought.

He removed her hat and veil, then patted her
pale skin with the towel. “Miss Yeager?” She remained unresponsive.
Woods may have been a fool, but Josh had to admit he’d picked a
pretty little thing.

Her lids fluttered, then opened—deep blue
eyes mesmerized him. At that moment it seemed his heart forgot how
to beat and his lungs hung in suspension as he fought for air.

***

It took extreme effort for Annabelle to open
her eyes. Her gaze locked on the sheriff, kneeling in front of her.
Was that concern she detected in his dark brown eyes? Then she
remembered. She’d traveled to Shiloh Springs to marry Barry Woods,
a man she’d never met. The sheriff said Mr. Woods was dead. The
room reeled when she jumped up.

“Take it easy, ma’am. You’ve had quite a
shock.”

Shock. Yes. Barry Woods’ death was a shock,
but while she regretted his death, how could she mourn him? Truth
be told, she had no feelings one way or the other, although she was
certain that in time they would have grown to love each other.

What was she going to do now? She had no
money to return home. Besides, she had disgraced her family by
running away to get married, so she couldn’t go back to Georgia.
Panic raced through her. A feeling of utter hopelessness began to
sink in and she stifled the tears. Lord, she needed time to
think.

“Here, drink this.” The sheriff handed her a
cup. “It’ll calm your nerves.”

She smelled the fiery fragrance of whiskey.
She’d had spirits on occasion—during her monthlies when the cramps
got unbearable. This pain wasn’t physical, but with nowhere to
turn, it was no less real.

She cradled the cup in both hands. “Thank
you.” The fiery liquid burned as it traveled to her stomach,
landing with a thud. Warmth spread throughout her body within
minutes.

“If you feel strong enough, we can go back
out front. I think you’ll be more comfortable there.”

She nodded and stood, feeling his gaze upon
her. He extended his hand to steady her, and she accepted it,
realizing this is how a new colt must feel. He led the way out of
the cell and she followed.

His height amazed her—at least six inches
taller than her brothers and they weren’t short. If she didn’t look
up, all she saw was his broad back covered by a cotton shirt. True,
he was handsome, with brown eyes hiding under long lashes, and a
strong comforting smile, but it was his gentle manner that made her
feel she could trust him.

After seating herself in front of his desk,
she waited until he walked around and sat in his chair. “Sheriff
Morrow, how did Mr. Woods die?”

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “I
won’t lie to you. Someone gunned him down. Shot him in the chest
five times. Whoever it was made damn sure he was dead.”

She gasped. People didn’t kill each other for
no reason back in Georgia, at least not since the war was over.

“Miss Yeager, what did Mr. Woods tell you
about himself?”

“We corresponded by letter
after
A Bride for All
mail order catalog matched us up. He wrote he was thirty
years old and had never been married. Stated he’d fought for the
Confederacy and his family had lost everything in the war. Said
they were all dead. He also mentioned he owned a restaurant and a
hotel and could provide a good life for me.”

***

Josh clenched his fists. That scoundrel
Woods had outright lied to her. Now he was dead and it fell to Josh
to tell her the truth.

“Miss Yeager, I’m afraid Woods wasn’t exactly
honest with you. He didn’t own a restaurant or a hotel. He owned
the Chances Are Saloon and Social Club.”

Her eyes fluttered, but she stayed upright.
Her small bow lips formed an ‘o’. A sudden urge to touch and hold
her shot through him as he felt himself being pulled into her web.
Did she know what she was doing to him?

Ever since his fiancée had been raped and
murdered when he’d been away fighting for the South, he’d felt
overwhelming guilt. His curse in life seemed to be his failure to
protect the women dear to him, including his mother and his sister
who had died at the end of the war, adding salt to the wound in his
heart. Over time, guilt and pain had taken its toll and he’d vowed
never to let another woman near his heart. He’d kept that promise,
and while some stirred his body, none had stirred his soul.

Until now.

“The eastbound stage won’t be here for
another five days. I assume you’ll want to be on it.” It wasn’t his
business what she did, but damn someone needed to protect her.
“Fanny Appling owns the boardinghouse. Let’s get you something to
eat, and then I’ll go talk to her.”

She nodded and accepted his arm. Outside
they walked a short distance to Gloria’s Cafe. People stopped and
stared at the mail order bride. He couldn’t help but wonder what
she thought about it all.

***

Annabelle knew she was the object of
curiosity. Everyone wanted to see the fool who’d traveled halfway
across the country to marry a man she’d never met. It all seemed
like a bad dream, one she couldn’t awaken from. Barry Woods owned a
saloon. She had no idea what a social club was, but, from the look
on the sheriff’s face when he’d told her, it couldn’t be good.

The sheriff left the diner to see Mrs.
Appling about a room for her. Confused, she had no idea what to
think or do. One thing was certain—she didn’t have enough money for
a ticket back to Georgia. Besides, there was nothing left for her
there. As her ma would’ve said, she’d burned her bridges and made a
fool of herself in the process. This was a chance for a new life
and somehow she was determined to make it work. She wouldn’t be an
unpaid housekeeper to her pa and brothers again.

First things first–she was hungry. She
ordered a small meal of steak, mashed potatoes and coffee. Sheriff
Morrow returned just as she finished eating and took a seat
opposite her.

A man brought him coffee. “Thanks, Ben. This
is Miss Yeager. She’ll be with us until the stagecoach comes
through next week. Do you have any pie?”

Sheriff Morrow turned to her. “Ben and his
daughter Gloria are the owners.”

She nodded her head toward Ben.

“Mrs. Appling has a room you can rent.
Roger’ll take your bag over.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.” She
faltered, not knowing what else to say.

Ben brought him a piece of apple pie. She
was surprised to see a frontier lawman put the napkin in his lap
and use the fork, not the spoon.

“It isn’t necessary. Mrs. Appling’s a fine
Christian lady. You’ll get a clean room, breakfast and supper. She
doesn’t like noise though.”

“I hope she doesn’t charge
too much. I don’t have much money.”
Might
as well tell the truth up front.

“It’s taken care of.” He ate another bite of
pie. “I owed Woods some money on a horse, so I just paid it to Mrs.
Appling.”

Did he think she needed charity? “I can pay
my own expenses, Sheriff Morrow. I won’t accept your charity.” Her
words surprised her. Past experience had taught her it was useless
to argue with a man, especially one as large as the sheriff.

“It’s not charity. I owed Woods and Woods
owes you for what he’s done to you,” he growled. “I know you were
all set to marry the man, but, lady, you should thank your lucky
stars someone filled him full of lead. Saved you a bunch of
heartache.”

He pushed aside what was left of the pie and
stalked toward the man at the counter and threw money down. “This
should cover my pie and coffee and the lady’s meal. Will you see
she gets to Mrs. Appling’s when she’s ready?”

“I’ll take care of her, Sheriff.”

Stunned, her thoughts and emotions were a
jumble. Finally she rose, and placed money on the counter, but Ben
politely refused. After another insistence or two, she gave up.

“I’ll take ya over to Mrs. Appling’s,” he
said.

“Just give me directions.” She could do
this—the sheriff had no say over what she did. “I’m certain I can
find it.”